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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24541186">Eat That Lunch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dusksmote/pseuds/dusksmote'>dusksmote</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Eat That Lunch [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Smut, F/M, Fist Fights, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, High School, Illustrations, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Top!Stan, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Valentine's Day, bottom!kyle, bottom!stan, fat Kyle, jock Stan, they're versatile, top!kyle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:42:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>27,700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24541186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dusksmote/pseuds/dusksmote</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle’s been stress eating ever since he came out and has gained even more weight—and he knows Stan can tell. Every time he looks he catches him staring.</p>
<p>With illustrations.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Eric Cartman/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Henrietta Biggle/Kenny McCormick, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Eat That Lunch [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>238</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Falling For You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks Myn for the beta and MissLashyLassy for the inspiration!</p>
<p>This was just gonna be a stupid oneshot but then I listened to Pinkerton and caught feelings</p>
<p>This fanfic contains external links to YouTube, if a link breaks please let me know &lt;3</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>—</p>
</div><strong>Lordosis:</strong> excessive inward curvature of the spine.
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>It started with World of Warcraft. They all let themselves go getting sucked into the game, but that was when they were kids with crazy metabolisms. A few months off the machine, eating right, a couple laps around the elementary school, and everyone else dropped the weight. Kyle doesn’t know why he never shook it. Maybe it’s his diabetes, or he takes after his mom, what with her heavier genes. It’s been ten years and he’s still fat. Not chubby, not overweight, <em> fat</em>. Not as fat as Cartman, thank god, but solidly in that category.</p><p>And the way he carries the weight. Finding pants that fit is impossible when everything goes to your ass and thighs first and belly second. Maybe he would slim down if he still did sports, but you phase out of basketball pretty quick when your spine decides it would rather bend in instead of growing out. His doctor says the lordosis is a result of the extra weight in the front, which feels so ironically cruel. All his stupid spine manages to do is make everything stick out more. At least he still gets some steps in working at the library.</p><p>And that’s not the only reason Kyle quit the team. Changing in the gym is a nightmare. He knows he shouldn’t care—hell, Cartman walks around naked after football like he’s the emperor showing off his fresh threads. But there’s always those passing stares that last a second longer than a glance. He walks down the hall and feels people’s eyes on his body. Hears his name preluded with “that fat kid”, or worse, when he and Cartman are stuck going somewhere together and then it’s “those fat kids”. </p><p>
  
</p><p>But most of the time it’s just background static. You’re the second fattest kid in your class so long and shit blends in with the rest of the scenery. It honestly wouldn’t be that bad if the margin wasn’t so big. Henrietta’s third, but she’s a chick with jugs—not a very fair comparison. After that is Clyde, which is even worse because he’s built like a brick house. Brawny to the peak and just chunky on top of that. The only stretch marks he has are the ones around his armpits from building up muscle getting back into football season. It’s like <em> his </em> body’s never heard of cellulite. </p><p>But the absolute worst part is Stan. Perfect, athletic, <em> lean </em> Stan. They look juxtaposed next to each other. He’s tall, handsome, with broad shoulders and muscle definition. In the dead heat of summer they hang out at Stark’s Pond, Kyle in his shirt and board shorts, Stan in those sexy jammers, and girls come up to ask him to flex for them. He always laughs like it’s the most absurd request, then does it anyway, making the abs stand out on his flat stomach. </p><p>It’s not that Kyle is ugly or anything, he actually puts a lot of effort into looking good. Grooming, shaving, exfoliating. His level of hygiene is borderline obsessive and he hasn’t had a zit since middle school. It just never feels like enough to make up for everything his body takes away. Dating is a bad joke. It’s like he’s invisible to girls—and he’s not even interested in <em> them</em>.</p><p>And that’s not all. It’s not bad enough he feels that Stan looks like Prince Eric standing next to Ursula the Sea Witch when they hang out. Kyle’s been stress eating ever since he came out to the gang a few weeks back and has gained even more weight—and he knows Stan can tell. For the first time in a decade and a half of friendship it’s Stan who he catches staring. Staring at his body.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Kyle’s pants are especially constricting come lunch. There he is, standing in line with one hand in his jacket pocket, looking at his phone. Propped up on one leg, his ass squeezed tight in those army green jeans, full thighs straining against the denim. The line advances and when he walks they rub against each other, tummy jiggling subtly where it stands out of his open jacket. He accidentally drops his change up at the register and bends over to grab it, ass up in the air as he searches the floor for that last quarter—</p><p>“Uh, earth to Stan!” Suddenly there’s a hand waving in his face, and Kenny is hissing at him from the lunch bench beside him. “You’re staring again. He’s gonna notice.”</p><p>Somehow Stan manages to pry his eyes away and puts his forehead in his hand to dissuade himself from peeking. “I can’t help it.”</p><p>Kenny sniggers into his bologna and mayonnaise on white bread. “You got a chub going, chubby chaser?”</p><p>Stan glares over at him. “Kenny, I swear to god—”</p><p>“Shut up, he’s coming over.”</p><p>The rest of the guys come up to take their spots and the bickering has already started. “—like you have any room to talk, fatass! Look at your goddamn plate!”</p><p>“Aye, I’m bulking up my <em> muscles! </em> Go feed your ass, Kardashian.”</p><p>Cartman drops his full tray across from them and plops down while Kyle slides in next to Stan, thigh pressing into him a moment as he situates himself on the bench. Stan has to glance away and cover his mouth with his fist.</p><p>“Hey, you guys are weighing down that end of the table,” Craig calls from the far end. Tweek cackles, hanging on his arm, and Clyde snickers across from them.</p><p>“Eat a dick, Craig,” says Kyle, rolling his eyes.</p><p>He steals some fries from Tweek and stuffs them in his mouth with an unaffected look. “Can’t if you eat ‘em all first.”</p><p>Kyle scowls, face pink. </p><p>Cartman laughs at his expense, and a fleck of tater tot flies out of his mouth onto the table. “Like anyone’d want you near their junk. ‘No fats no fems’, isn’t that the gay mantra?”</p><p>Kyle’s so mad he can’t reply. Luckily Kenny steps in, propping his chin in his hand. “Is that why Butters won’t call you back?”</p><p>“A-Aye!”</p><p>Stan watches Kyle from the corner of his eye as he sits there glaring out at the cafeteria, not touching any part of his lunch tray. “Hey. You gotta eat something.”</p><p>Kyle just squints harder. “No I don’t.”</p><p>Stan frowns.</p><p>“Let Jew fag starve himself,” Cartman says with his mouth full, “might take off enough pounds so he can find his dick again.”</p><p>“At least I have a dick, microprick!” He snaps back.</p><p>Cartman scoffs. “At least I’ll use mine! All you’ve done since admitting your faggotry is blow up. You couldn’t attract a chick and you definitely can’t attract a—”</p><p>“Hey fellas!” Butters' voice cuts in as he approaches the table, climbing in on Cartman’s left with a big rolled up poster. “Sorry I’m late,” and he drops his voice to a dramatic whisper, “I had a secret emergency meeting with the candygram committee.”</p><p>Cartman looks absolutely miffed by the presence of their newcomer. “Butters, only gaywads give a shit about your Valentine's crap.”</p><p>It at least draws attention away from Kyle. He picks at his broccoli with his plastic spork. </p><p>“D-Don’t let him get to you, Kyle,” says Jimmy from across the bench. “I’m sure there’s lots of guys who’d be in-in—ihhn!—interested in you.”</p><p>Kenny kicks Stan’s leg under the table and makes a shit-eating grin at Kyle. “Yeah dude! You’re hot as fuck! You got curves and shit.” He gives him a flirtatious look over as if to accentuate the point. </p><p>Kyle grimaces. “Jesus, Kenny. Can you not undress me with your eyes in the middle of the lunch room?” He asks with a disturbed grin.</p><p>Kenny’s not deterred. “I’m just sayin’, dude. Don’t be ashamed. Work what you got. ‘Cause you got a whole lot of it.”</p><p>Stan should say something, but he can’t think of anything but “You look fine, dude.”</p><p>“Yeah, <em> real </em>fuckin’ fine,” Kenny agrees. He grabs his juice and sucks the straw. “Now eat that lunch.”</p><p>Kyle squints playfully back at him, then does as told.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey, so you gonna tell me why you suddenly can’t get your eyes off Kyle’s ass or am I just gonna have to keep assuming you wanna stick your face in that cake?”</p><p>It’s the middle of after-school practice. Stan only came by the bathrooms to get a drink from the water fountain, but now here’s Kenny, doing the same to get away from track and field. They hide behind the little building together so they don’t get caught.</p><p>Stan scratches at the scab on his elbow, eyes flickering about, keeping watch. “I have no idea, dude… Ever since he said he’s gay it’s like—suddenly he’s on my radar.”</p><p>“Hah! Suddenly?”</p><p>Stan frowns back at him. “I didn’t exactly entertain the idea before, I thought he was straight!”</p><p>Kenny pulls out his dab pen and takes a puff of vapor. “Yeah, threw me for a loop too. He’s totally butch. Haha.” He holds it out for Stan.</p><p>Stan waves the pen away. Kenny knows he doesn’t do THC. “It’s really tripping me up. I can’t stop thinking of hypothetical situations.” </p><p>Kenny does another hit. “He knows you’re bi, right?”</p><p>“Yeah. He’s super cool about it too. It didn’t change anything about our relationship at all—part of the reason why this is kind of freaking me out.”</p><p>“What? You got feelings or something?”</p><p>Stan’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I feel—really fucking confused.” He looks pretty damn confused too. “I feel like I should—but also that I shouldn’t?”</p><p>Kenny cocks a brow. “Why not? You guys are tight. It’d work out.” He smirks. “You’re not scared of a little extra something, are you?”</p><p>Stan’s face goes pink. Bingo. “It’s—” It’s definitely not his looks. That’s not what has him so hung up. Kyle’s always been attractive, even if he doesn’t believe it. Vibrant, voluminous hair; smile that wakes Stan up in first period; skin so flawless it fucking glows. He’s like a purebred strutting around a bunch of mutts. Of course Stan’s noticed. Those are things anyone would admire.</p><p>No—It’s his body. The way he fills out his clothes. When a little spills out over the top of his jeans, or his shirt rides up. How his ass fucking <em> bounces </em> when he stalks off angrily after a heated argument. Maybe it’s because Kyle’s now an option. Maybe Stan’s just never noticed before. Suddenly it’s all he sees. </p><p>“I’m so confused,” he says again.</p><p>“What’s there to be confused over?” Kenny asks, blowing a big plume of vapor. “You ever been with a big girl before? That shit’s on a whole ‘nother level. Big, juicy, woman.” He shuts his eyes with a grin, holding up his hands like he’s imagining himself holding onto one and loving every second of it. “Mmmm. Man, when me ‘n’ Henrie got down that shit was like poetry. She could put my ass in a sarcophagus. That girl’s got a cake better than Betty Crocker.”</p><p>Stan stares back at him with a raised eyebrow and a grimace, more at the prospect of doing something with that goth chick than anything else. “I will seriously never get you.”</p><p>“Damn, I gotta hit her up again. You got me all hot thinking ‘bout her.”</p><p>Suddenly there’s approaching footsteps crunching across the gravel, and Kenny stuffs his pen hastily back into his pocket.</p><p>Craig’s face appears around the corner of the building, wearing his baseball cap crooked. “Marsh. Quit sucking dick and get back on the diamond.”</p><p>He hops up from the wall. “Fuck. Later dude.”</p><p>“Fat bottomed girls, Stan,” Kenny calls with a little smirk, pulling out his pen again. “They make the rockin’ world go ‘round!”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>That’s the thing Stan can’t explain. He never felt any kind of attraction to Heidi when she went through her various weight fluctuations over the years. Thinking about Henrietta makes his dick want to shrink back up inside his body. When he thinks of her all he smells is the stale coffee and cigarette stench, and sees the nasty snarl she shoots him anytime they make eye contact. Residual resentment for turning into such a Justin Timberlake he guesses. And Stan has never, not fucking ever, felt anything for Cartman—except maybe intense repulsion. </p><p>Maybe he’s just never known anyone big he didn’t have some kind of bad history with, except Kyle. Smart Kyle. Passionate Kyle. Gets-him-like-no-one-else-on-earth Kyle. The guy he can say anything to, confide any thought. Except these ones. And that’s why he can’t figure out if this is like a <em> Kyle thing </em> or some kind of <em> attraction </em> he never knew he had. Like a latent paraphilia Kyle’s awakened for him.</p><p>All he knows for sure is later that week when Wendy hits him up for a casual romp Friday evening things are definitely not the same. </p><p>Stan borrows the truck and swings by her place, and when she opens the door she’s wearing her Race For the Cure T-shirt. Not the most fashionable top, but it hugs her body perfectly, showing off her slight waist and perky tits. How petite and lithe she is.</p><p>“Come on in,” she welcomes with a grin, slyly sensual. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div><p>He follows with a slow trudge, looking absentminded as she walks ahead to the couch. He considers her ass as she struts. It’s still the same ass he’s had his hands all over dozens of times, still the one he’s squeezed and loved. But when he looks at it now he’s surprised by how small and subtle it is. At least, compared to how he remembers it. </p><p>She makes room for him on the sofa and pulls up Netflix on the TV. He lets her pick the movie, and gets busy wrapping himself up in the other half of the blanket. Wendy settles in against him, head on his shoulder, and his hand winds its way around to rest on her pelvic bone without even having to think about it. </p><p>“Hmm. This is nice,” Wendy says after about ten minutes, though the way she does makes it sound like there’s something <em> nicer </em> she’d rather do. </p><p>Stan usually makes a move by now, but for some reason he’s really lost in The Great Buck Howard. It’s not even a good film, but his eyes are dead staring at the TV. </p><p>“Yeah,” he replies after a minute.</p><p>“You know, Valentine’s Day is next Friday,” she says, drawing the blanket tighter around them. She scoots into his lap so he wraps an arm around her slender waist. She’s so thin he could lock her in with just one arm if he wanted to. </p><p>“Uhuh.”</p><p>“Token’s inviting everyone up to his parents’ lake cabin that night.”</p><p>“Oh. He is?” Stan asks, pulling out of his trance a little. </p><p>Wendy twists around to wrap her arms about his neck, and shifts in his lap to get more comfortable, firm ass rubbing against his pants front. She lays heavily against his chest, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “You could take me if you want.”</p><p>He tears his eyes away from the TV screen and looks down at her, still in a bit of a stupor. “You’d want me to?” This friends with benefits thing still confuses him, but probably not as much as dating seriously again would.</p><p>She grins, lips against his jaw. “Well, maybe if you asked me in a romantic way.”</p><p>Fuck. He’s terrible at coming up with ideas like that. “...Like?”</p><p>“Like… Why don’t you ask me in a candygram?”</p><p>Stan snorts. It takes all his effort to not say ‘only gaywads give a shit about those’. Somehow he manages the self-control. </p><p>Wendy shifts, pulling up her legs and turning to throw one over him, straddling his lap. “Hey,” she says simply, caressing his jaw.</p><p>He grins stupidly. “Hey.”</p><p>She wraps an arm around his neck and kisses him, so he shuts his eyes and reciprocates, running a hand up her slender waist. She presses into him, holding them flush together as they make out. Her hands are all over him, going south down his chest, so he feels obligated to do the same, but the usual enthusiasm just isn’t there. His hands caress her thighs but they just feel smooth and hard. He gives her little ass a squeeze but all he can think is how much nicer it’d be if it took up both hands, spilling out of his tight grip. </p><p>Wendy pulls away from his mouth and sits back on his thighs, looking a little solemn. “Is everything okay? You don’t seem very into this.”</p><p>He sighs, feeling somewhat guilty he can’t seem to get aroused. He lets his hands drop heavily onto the couch. “Sorry, guess I’m just preoccupied.”</p><p>She makes a teasing grin. “Big things on your mind?”</p><p>He flushes. “You have no idea.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Saturday is for Stan and Kyle. It’s ritualistic. Ike should really know that by now, yet Kyle still finds himself yelling down into the basement from the top of the stairs because he’s sitting two feet from the TV wrapped up in a blanket like a burrito.</p><p>“IKE TURN OFF FORENSIC FILES STAN IS COMING OVER!!”</p><p>“Jesus, alright!” He gets up, then sticks his tongue out and pinches Kyle in the stomach as he passes. Little shit is only fourteen and already pushing six feet tall, and not to mention skinny as a rail. How is that fucking fair? “Your shirt doesn’t fit.”</p><p>Kyle tugs down on it, even if it’s a futile effort. He knows. Of course he knows. He’s hyper aware of everything he wears. Why does he even own this shirt still when it’s clearly too small on him? The bottom of his belly just barely pokes out from under the deep green fabric, but he can’t bring himself to donate it yet. It used to be his favorite. And he’s still kind of hoping one day it’ll fit him again. “It’s laundry day, dickweed,” he says, and gives Ike a swift kick in the pants. </p><p>The doorbell rings. Kyle gets it in a hurry, and there’s Stan on his front step looking good as ever, broad shoulders filling out his shirt. It’s such a good fit, just taut enough to show off his pectorals. He’s got it all, even with a little acne along the forehead where his hat usually settles. Somehow the imperfection just makes him look better. More earthly.</p><p>“Hey dude,” Kyle greets roguishly. </p><p>“Kyle!” Stan’s beaming, like this is the first time they’ve seen each other in months. At least, that’s how it feels for him. When Kyle opens up and leans on the doorframe there’s something about him that’s different. Like Stan’s seeing him in a whole new light. </p><p>Stan swoops him up into a hug, squeezing him tight. Fuck he’s so soft, this has to be the best hug Stan’s ever had. </p><p>“Whoa, uh, good to see you too.” Kyle gives him a pat, and lets himself enjoy the moment while it lasts.</p><p>Stan pulls back and does the quickest glance up and down. He just can’t help it. He tries not to be conspicuous. Tight shirt and grey sweats never looked so fucking cute. If Kyle notices he doesn’t say anything. “I got my controller.” Stan holds it up.</p><p>Kyle grins. “I got us the basement.”</p><p>“Lead the way.”</p><p>Kyle walks ahead, letting Stan stare unabashed. Kyle fixes his shirt again, exposing a bit of back for a moment and the crease from a roll of fat. Stan bites his lip. </p><p>A few hours into A Way Out and they’ve successfully plowed through an oven tray of taquitos and some chips too. They’ve settled into the floor before the couch on top of one big nest of blankets, Stan laying on his side propped up on an elbow, Kyle with a pillow in the hollow of his back up against the sofa. The only way he can sit comfortably. </p><p>Kyle sucks Dorito dust from his fingers to keep his controller clean, eyes glued on the TV. He’s so zoned in he forgets to feel self-conscious. “Dude, get your fucking head in the game,” he warns, watching Stan drive the truck right off the road. Cop cars ram them. “You’re gonna get us arrested again.”</p><p>“Shit. Sorry.” He overcorrects, but it’s too late. The game goes to a cutscene and it’s game over.</p><p>“You want me to play Vincent for this part?” </p><p>“Yeah, probably.” </p><p>They trade off controllers and restart the getaway, faring a little better with Stan on shotgun. Kyle can tell he’s still distracted by something, he just doesn’t know he’s the reason. </p><p>“Hey,” Stan says after a minute once he’s fallen into the rhythm of the game. “Apparently Token’s having some kind of party up at the lake this Friday for Valentine’s Day. Wendy wants me to take her.”</p><p>That skinny bitch. Kyle frowns. He knows he shouldn’t think it. Wendy is nice. They co-head the debate team together. They’ve been nothing but civil with each other since she and Stan decided to forgo all the dating drama for casual hookups, and saved everyone a lot of fucking grief. But he can’t help the jealousy. She’s got everything he doesn’t. Hot body from years as tennis captain, unending positive attention from guys. From Stan. “You should.”</p><p>“You think so?” Stan asks, looking over from where he lays on the floor, slightly further back than him.</p><p>Kyle shrugs noncommittally. “Why not? You like her, don’t you?”</p><p>“I guess so.” They play the game for a minute. Stan ponders Kyle’s response. If this means anything or nothing. He could just come out and ask, be a fucking man about it. Instead he pussies into something a little less direct. “What do you think of us? I mean, me with Wendy…”</p><p>“You mean, besides that it’s been done?” Kyle asks, really hoping this isn’t some kind of prelude to Stan confiding plans to woo her again. </p><p>“Like—How we look together.”</p><p>Oh Christ. Now he has to imagine it? How fucking perfect they are next to each other—like a matching box set. “She’s fine I guess, if you like conventional beauty. If you want honesty though, you’ve both got straight, dark hair, you’re both sporty. It kind of blends together. It’s kind of boring.”</p><p>Stan glances at him again. Eyes the kinky red hair fluffing out the back of his hat. Traces down his side to the strip of exposed skin his shirt doesn’t cover. That makes Stan want to roll right over and put his fucking hands on him. He turns back to the TV. “Yeah. Boring.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>At dinner Kyle’s mom asks if Stan is staying over for the night, so of course the answer is yes. They migrate up to Kyle’s room later that night with the basket of fresh laundry, and Kyle digs through for something to sleep in.</p><p>“Hey, you wanna grab the sleeping bag from the hall closet while I change?” He asks, holding up his extra large Pinkerton album shirt.</p><p> Stan sits on the edge of his bed, chin in hand. “It’s kind of cold to be sleeping on the floor.”</p><p>Kyle snorts, and since it looks like Stan’s not moving he just pulls the shirt on over his other one to save himself from having to undress. “We’re not exactly little kids anymore, my bed isn’t that big, dude.”</p><p>Damn. Would it be weird to press the issue? “Hey—” Stan lifts his head when Kyle’s done fixing his clothes. “Is that the shirt you got when we went to that concert in Denver last summer?”</p><p>Kyle holds out the design like he already can’t remember what he’s wearing. “Yeah dude, this is probably my favorite shirt. Shit, I think I still have your stuff from that night around here somewhere—”</p><p>“You’re not just saying that ‘cause you know they’re my favorite band?” Stan asks with a teasing smirk as Kyle hunts about the room.</p><p>“Hah! You wish.” He yanks up a plastic bag from halfway behind his dresser and rifles through it. “It’s just super soft. Aha!” Kyle pulls out a copy of the album, still in its shrink wrap, and Stan’s Hydro Flask they filled with vodka and snuck into the stadium. </p><p>Stan gets to his feet. “Oh shit, I was wondering where that went.”</p><p>Kyle unscrews the lid, but it’s dry. “Damn. I don’t think I’ve listened to any of their songs since then.”</p><p>“What! You gotta be fucking kidding me—” Stan grabs the CD and tears it open. “That’s a <em> crime</em>. Where’s your old boombox?”</p><p>Kyle breaks it out of the closet, sets it on the desk, and they pop in the disc. For a minute they just stand there together bobbing their heads to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THDc2MAMwok">Tired of Sex</a>, and Kyle grins with his eyes shut, feeling the music.</p><p>“Damn, you’re right. I forgot how golden this album is.”</p><p>“Right?” Stan skips ahead a few tracks. “They’ve never shredded like this since, it’s kind of a shame. I want them to go dark again.”</p><p>“Really? When you first showed it to me I thought it was more like a love letter.”</p><p>Stan startles back. “What? Really?”</p><p>The next song picks up and Kyle shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, It’s kind of broody and abrasive, but all the songs are about love and shit. Like, listen to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rl089HxOPkw">this track</a>.” </p><p>They both go quiet to hear the lyrics. “<em>Why are you so far away from me? I need help and you're way across the sea. I could never touch you—I think it would be wrong. I've got your letter. You've got my song…</em>”</p><p>“It’s kind of hopeful,” says Kyle. “Like this weird collection of ballads for all the Asian girls Rivers Cuomo lusts after.”</p><p>Stan blinks at him. “Dude… You thought a lot about this.”</p><p>Kyle snorts. “Well, when your best friend makes you listen to an album a million times you actually start paying attention to the lyrics at some point.”</p><p>Stan can’t think of anything to say. He just grins like a buffoon. The Kyle he knows. The Kyle he’s best friends with. The most uncomplicated admiration he feels. The easiest love in the world.</p><p>“I mean,” Kyle continues, punching the skip button on the box, “it starts off all emo but by the end all the songs are about him falling in love—”</p><p>“Yeah, with lesbians—” </p><p>“Oh shit, this is actually my favorite,” Kyle says, stopping when he hears the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdrAsZ7ebuc">familiar tune</a>. He cranks the volume and steps away from the desk to nod his head and sway in place, dancing by himself.</p><p>“Really? This one?” Stan asks incredulously.</p><p>The lyrics start up and Kyle gets into it, losing himself to the song. He throws his head back and forth, moving with the music. Stan grips the desk behind him, watching him dance. Bright hair springing around his face, thighs and gut shaking under those double layers. Stan gulps. Maybe <em> not </em>the most uncomplicated after all—but now he’s thinking this is his favorite song too. </p><p>So he gets up from the desk and joins him in the middle of the room to do a little head nodding himself. Kyle grins back at him and Stan picks up the next verse, singing along.</p><p>“<em>Holy moly, baby, wouldn't you know it? Just as I was busting loose.</em>” Kyle snorts and shoves him back. Stan’s not deterred. “<em>I gotta go turn in my rock star card—And get fat and old with you. ‘Cause I'm a burning candle, you're a gentle moth, teaching me to lick a little bit kinder,</em>” he sings with a snarky grin, getting in his face. “<em>And I do like you—you're the lucky one. No, I'm the lucky one.</em>”</p><p>Kyle makes an amused grimace, but falls in step with him, accidentally moving close enough that his stomach brushes against Stan. Before he has a chance to back up Stan’s hand clamps down on his shoulder, holding him in place. Stan grins sheepishly down at the both of them, suddenly nervous.</p><p>“<em>I'm shaking at your touch—I like you way too much—</em>” Stan dares to move his other hand to Kyle’s waist. Kyle snickers like this is all an elaborate comedic bit, but he’s grinning and puts his hands on his arms too. Stan chuckles back and gives his flank a squeeze, holding them together so he can feel all of Kyle pressing against him. Right now there’s no mental hangups. No need to guess. Oh fuck yeah, he thinks, this is the shit I like. “<em>My baby, I'm afraid I'm falling for you—</em>”</p><p>BANG BANG!</p><p>There’s a knock through the wall and then Ike’s muffled voice yelling “I have to get up for hockey practice in six hours!”</p><p>“Invest in earplugs!” Kyle shouts back, but then he catches a glimpse of them in his mirror closet doors. Mashed up against Stan with no room between them, his fucking gargantuan ass jiggling as he dances. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div><p>Kyle quickly slows to a stop and retreats out of Stan’s grip, hugging his arms as he steps over to the desk to turn off the music. He stands there silently a minute, turned away from him.</p><p>Stan loiters in the middle of his room, worried this means rejection. “Kyle?”</p><p>A few seconds pass. “...We’re looking at spinal surgery right now to fix my lordosis,” Kyle says finally. He makes one airy scoff and adds, “my doctor says correcting it might even make me grow a few inches.”</p><p>“Oh,” Stan says, not expecting this response. “Shit, that’d be cool.”</p><p>Kyle plays with his bottom lip, looking down at his desk. “...He says I have to lose thirty pounds before they’ll put me under. Said there could be complications with the anesthesia.”</p><p>Oh. Stan pinches his mouth together, and steps back to sit on the edge of his bed, looking solemnly pensive. “Damn, dude. That’s a lot.”</p><p>Kyle makes a wide gesture, like <em> fuck it</em>. “I try to be healthy, eat right and stuff, exercise, it just doesn’t go away. I’ve just accepted it at this point dude.” He glances over at himself again in the mirror with a dour expression, like defeat. “I’m always gonna look like this, so I might as well say screw it.”</p><p>Stan scrunches his brows with concern and crosses the room. “Well, if you want to try I could always help, but,” he leans on the end of the desk, between him and the mirror. “Honestly dude—you <em>look</em> fine the way you are.”</p><p>Kyle blows a huff of air. “I just wish people didn’t stare so much,” he says, side-eyeing him. Maybe this’ll be enough of a hint. That he knows Stan’s been looking <em> all damn day</em>.</p><p>He gulps. “Maybe they stare… because they think you’re really hot.”</p><p>Kyle lifts his head and stares disturbed back at him. Not sure what the hell he just heard. “You sound like Kenny right now.”</p><p><em> Well he’s right </em> is the first thing Stan thinks to say. Instead he asks “Is it really that hard to believe?”</p><p>Kyle shakes his head with incredulity. This is too much to compute. He pushes back from the desk. “It’s really late. I’m gonna grab that sleeping bag.”</p><p>Stan watches him abscond to the hall and puts his forehead in his hand. “<em>Fuck</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Getchoo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Watch the first ten minutes of The Great Buck Howard and you'll know why Stan was so distracted B^)</p>
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</div><strong>Ice:</strong> methamphetamine</blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Well. I’m not confused anymore,” Stan says Monday morning behind the gym.</p>
<p>It’s uncharacteristically warm for early February, and the snow is all muddy slush underfoot. Apparently it’s going to be in the low fifties all week, warm enough for just two layers. It’s shaping up to be a lovely Valentine’s weekend. So why does everything feel so fucked up?</p>
<p>“Ohoho, something happen this weekend?” Kenny asks, organizing his collection of cigarettes of varying brands, all stuffed into one pack like a wonderful sampler of coffin nails. Smokes he’s bummed off numerous people and saved over the months. </p>
<p>“No, actually,” Stan scowls out at the empty backlot, thinking about how he managed to strike out twice in two days. And now he’s afraid he’s scared Kyle off for good. He glances over at Kenny and squints. “I thought you were just dabbing now.”</p>
<p>Kenny picks out one with a white filter and scrutinizes the little green lettering. Marlboro Menthol. Sounds dignified. He lights it. “I’m reinventing my image. Vaping’s for posers.” He sucks in and looks back at the cigarette with an approving hum<em>. </em> Pleasant minty flavor mixed with tobacco. He hates to admit it, but Cartman has good taste. </p>
<p>“Is that why we’re back here at the crack of dawn?” Stan deadpans. “So you can try to pick up that goth chick?”</p>
<p>Kenny does another puff, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth. “If she and her gang of creeps ever show up.” He glints over at Stan. “Sounds like I’m not the only one trying to pick up more than they can carry.”</p>
<p>“<em>Eugh</em>.” Stan rubs his face with the butt of his palm.</p>
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</div><p>“Are you <em> still </em> freaked out over that?”</p>
<p>He makes an irked groan. “It just feels weird how <em> not weird </em> it is to me. You know?”</p>
<p>“No, not really.” Kenny blows a plume of smoke.</p>
<p>Stan throws out his hand. “It wouldn’t be weird if it was big muscly guys, right? Or girls with huge tits? So why is it when someone likes big guys <em> that’s </em> weird?”</p>
<p>Kenny cocks a brow. “You’re the only one I hear calling it weird, dude. Get out of your head. There’s nothing wrong with liking a big guy.”</p>
<p>Kenny doesn’t have to tell him. It doesn’t feel wrong at all, and that’s the trippy part. Stan shakes his head like he can’t believe his own thoughts. “...I <em> really </em> like him, dude. Everything about him. His stomach, his back, his thighs, his ass—all of it!” He lets out a sharp sigh, thinking of each part as he says it. “And I know he doesn’t! Is <em> that </em>wrong?”</p>
<p>Kenny grins back, looking impressed and fed up in tandem. “Damn dude! It’s the current fucking year! You’re allowed to like thick bitches!”</p>
<p>Stan stares out at the icy slurry across the way with exasperation. “Kyle’s <em> more </em> than just thick, dude.”</p>
<p>Kenny thwacks him on the shoulder. “Stop psychoanalyzing yourself, Sigmund Freud! Would you still love his hot ass if he lost the weight?”</p>
<p>Stan glares at him with a gape, almost offended. “Yeah, dude! I would hope fucking so!”</p>
<p>“Then what’s your problem? If he shapes up he shapes up, and if not you’re totally already infatuated with his fat ass. <em> Enjoy it</em>.”</p>
<p>Stan huffs and props his elbow on the AC unit next to them, chin in his palm. Enjoy it. Like when Stan sees him in a fitting shirt that dimples around his belly button. Or in class when he sits and his tummy takes up half his lap, and his thighs cush out either side. Ass pressing between the metal posts along the back of his desk chair. Or Saturday when they hugged at the door, then later when Stan held him that night. How fucking good Kyle felt against him when they danced, taking up his whole embrace. </p>
<p>Or—<em>fuck</em>—the next morning when Kyle got up early to change, thinking Stan was still asleep on the floor, and <em> struggled </em> to get into his jeans. Making agonized groans and fucking <em> whining </em>trying to get the zipper up. Stan thought he might actually die, laying there with his eyes snapped open staring at the baseboard. He’d never been so hard in his life.</p>
<p>“You know it takes him like twenty seconds to get his pants up?” Stan says finally.</p>
<p>Kenny pulls his cigarette away with raised brows. “Fuuuuuck,” he moans, smoke falling out of his mouth. “That has to be the hottest thing I think you’ve ever said.”</p>
<p>Stan frowns, thinking of everything else from that weekend. The lingering tension after his royal fuckup. Stan and his big, stupid mouth. After all that time he spent testing him with Wendy to see how he’d react. See if there was any reason to think he might reciprocate feelings. “Well too bad I fucked my chances. I totally freaked him out Saturday night coming on too strong.”</p>
<p>Kenny scoffs. “<em>Psh</em>, doubtful. He’s like in love with you, dude. And you’re a fool for never noticing.”</p>
<p>Stan quirks a brow. “If he was into me wouldn’t I know by now?”</p>
<p>He just sucks in another hit. Lets it go with an air of solemnity. “He probably thinks he doesn’t have a chance with you, man.”</p>
<p>Stan looks away, scratching his neck in contemplation. It sounds so ridiculous, at least to him. Kyle could call his name this instant and he’d come running. But given everything he knows about him and the way his mind operates? “...He really doesn’t think he’s sexy.”</p>
<p>“Then show him, dude.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Staff unlock the school doors just before class time to let students in, and the halls are already strung with red and pink, shitty spirit posters covered in hearts and glitter adorning every wall. It’s totally sickening. Valentine’s is honestly Kyle’s least favorite time of year. All the in-your-face commercialism, the increased PDA, and those stupid fucking candygrams. The epitome of dumbassery: singling out the bastards who are actually having sex and congratulating them for being able to lay on their backs and take it. </p>
<p>He might just be a jealous virgin. He’s certainly not hunting for the Valentine’s gram booth because he wants to buy one of those things. He’s looking for something else. Someone else.</p>
<p>Kyle finds it in the corner of the cafeteria at lunch, and sure enough Butters is there behind the foldout table, managing the money box.</p>
<p>“Hey Kyle!” He chirps, seeing his approach. “Come to get a gram?”</p>
<p>“I need your insight on something.”</p>
<p>“Oh sure! Here, Nichole’s getting lunch so it’ll be a few minutes before she’s back,” he says, offering her chair next to him. </p>
<p>Kyle swings down his bag and plops into it, scooting close so they can talk quietly. He hunkers low so people don’t catch him back here, and scans the cafeteria through the corner of his eye to make sure <em> he’s </em> not anywhere in sight. Coast clear. They huddle up together, and Kyle drops his voice. “Alright. Explain it to me. What the fuck is the appeal with Cartman? You don’t honestly find him attractive, do you?”</p>
<p>Butters startles back with a grin. “Wh-what? Me ‘n’ Eric? I don’t—”</p>
<p>“Cut the crap, Butters,” Kyle hisses. “I know what you two do behind closed doors.”</p>
<p>His brows lower into a guilty smirk. “So you figured me out, huh? What gave it away?”</p>
<p>Kyle should probably tell him about the fracas he and Cartman had a few months back, walking out of debate team. Whenever they took opposing stances on a topic things inevitably got personal and they got kicked out into the hall. This time “prostitution should be legal and regulated” turned into arguing about their own sex lives—or lackthereof. At least, that’s what Kyle had assumed, until the temptation became too great and Cartman dropped <em> that </em> bomb on him. He still remembers the crushing mortality of finding out even Cartman could get laid before him.</p>
<p>Instead he asks “And you don’t think he’s repulsive?”</p>
<p>Butters purses his lips with a shrug. “Yeah, he’s mean, but I can put up with it. Sometimes the benefits outweigh the cost, know what I’m sayin’?”</p>
<p>Kyle grimaces slightly. “I mean—physically. It doesn’t put you off?”</p>
<p>“Put me off?” Butters grins, like he’s excited he can finally talk about it. “That’s part of the appeal! Everything’s like getting a big hug, and snuggling afterward is amazing. He’s like a big heat blanket.” He whispers, “And uh, it makes sex pretty great too!”</p>
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</div><p>Kyle stares back at him with disturbed incredulity. Butters isn’t exactly the coolest guy to hang out with, but he’s got the full twink package. He could probably sleep with anyone he wants. He probably does. “You’re fucking joking.”</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t build a sledgehammer out of balsa wood, would you?” He asks deviously. “He can put his whole weight into it. It’s like getting pinned down and pulverized!”</p>
<p>Kyle can’t believe he’s letting himself be subjected to this. “You mean you actually <em> like </em> that he’s huge?”</p>
<p>Butters giggles. “It’s called a <em> preference</em>. Fit fellas are fine but big boys just fuck harder. Shouldn’t you know that by now?” He asks, smirking over at him.</p>
<p>Kyle flushes, and luckily Craig steps up to the booth a second later, saving him from having to think of a response. “Figures you’d be on the candy-queer committee, Broflovski,” he monotones with a quick glance his way, then picks up a blank gram and a pen.</p>
<p>Kyle rolls his eyes. “Go pick feathers out of your teeth, pillow-biter.”</p>
<p>“Hey Craig!” Butters greets before things get heated. “One dollar a gram—Oh, and don’t forget to write the name, even if we all know who it’s goin’ to!”</p>
<p>He digs into his pants for the money and passes it across the table with the note. “Mind slipping this past the censors for me?”</p>
<p>Butters smiles with high eyebrows and snatches both from him. “Ooh, what’cha write? Something steamy?”</p>
<p>Craig points a finger in his face. “If you look I’ll kill you.”</p>
<p>Butters crosses his heart with his finger and holds up his hands. </p>
<p>It seems to appease him. “Don’t eat all the chocolate back there, Bigfatski,” he says, giving Kyle’s gut a glance as he turns to go.</p>
<p>Kyle winces. Fucking prick. The second Craig stalks off Butters unfolds the note under the table and Kyle leans over to have a look too. </p>
<p>
  <em>‘Roses are red, violets are blue, I’ll plug your ass full of ice then stuff my dick in there too’</em>
</p>
<p>Kyle grimaces. “Jesus Christ.” </p>
<p>Butters sniggers and slips it into his pocket for later. He puts his chin in his hands and looks sidelong at Kyle. “So, did you really just come over here to ask me ‘bout the details on Eric?”</p>
<p>No, of course not. He wouldn’t have asked shit if he’d known what answers he would get. Butters is just the closest he’s got to an insight into this. “...You gotta promise to keep your fucking mouth shut.” Why is he even bothering to ask? This kid’s the biggest gossip he knows.</p>
<p>Butters pantomimes locking his lips then throws away the key.</p>
<p>Kyle glances left and right. “I think Stan likes me.” Butters gasps. “Over the weekend he was acting super physical and he called me hot—”</p>
<p>“Oh my god he did?!”</p>
<p>Kyle shades his eyes with his hand to hide from anyone who looks over. “Kind of. He totally implied it! He said the reason people stare at me is because they think I’m attractive or something.” He shakes his head.</p>
<p>Butters is on the edge of his seat. “So what happened? Did you do it?!”</p>
<p>Kyle frowns. “No, nothing happened! What the fuck am I supposed to think? That <em> can’t </em> be why.”</p>
<p>“Why not? Ya just said you think he likes you, and I can see why!” He says, grinning over at him from the corner of his eye, admiring his figure.</p>
<p>Kyle blinks back. “...<em>Am </em> I hot?”</p>
<p>There’s not a hint of doubt in his face. “Take it from someone who’s been around the big butt block—you got a nice ass. And I can guarantee ya Stan and I aren’t the only ones who think so.”</p>
<p>No-lies-Leo. Social butterfly Butters. If anyone knows the word around the school it’s him. Now Kyle’s itching with curiosity. “Oh yeah?”</p>
<p>“Bebe’s pretty vocal about it during committee meetings. I don’t think she ever grew out of that crush.”</p>
<p>Kyle rolls his eyes. “She’s a chick.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s guys too.”</p>
<p>Kyle makes an appalled gape. There’s dudes who’ve thought he’s hot this whole time?! He bangs a fist on the table. “<b>Who</b>.”</p>
<p>Butters grins sneakily, glancing over at their usual lunch table. “You think Craig likes pounding twiggy tweaker ass all the time? The meth diet doesn’t exactly do it for him. He wishes Tweek had some junk like you.”</p>
<p>This kid’s obviously been spending too much time with Cartman and Kenny. They’re starting to rub off on him. </p>
<p>Kyle’s mouth hangs open. “...Damn, Butters. You’re an asshole.”</p>
<p>“Hehe!”</p>
<p>He’s not sold yet. After the quip Craig just made? “Explain why he always rips on me then.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” says Butters, “you mean the same way Eric always rips on <em> me </em>so people don’t catch on?” He smirks, seeing Kyle’s shocked expression as he puts pieces together. “There’s others too.”</p>
<p>“<em>Holy shit.</em>”</p>
<p>Butters looks damn pleased. “Next time you catch someone lookin’ pay more attention to <em> how </em>they look. That’s my advice.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>That night at home Kyle stands in his mirror considering himself, thinking about what Butters said. Trying to imagine it from his perspective. He twists around and puts a hand on his flank, checking his ass. And you know what—it does look kind of nice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On Tuesday during passing period when he and the guys chat at their lockers he notices a subtle, lingering gaze from David. In a spur of the moment idea Kyle drops his binder just so he can bend over and pick it up again, watching his expression. David’s eyes never leave him, and when Kyle comes back up slowly he fucking <em> gulps</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After school in the library Kyle’s working the reference desk and Tweek steps up with a disturbing grin and some dried blood under his nose, come back to play his little game. His head nods slightly; he’s definitely on something. Kyle asks him what he wants and he points at the shelf of textbooks behind the desk, not sure which book it is again. </p>
<p>“This one?” Kyle asks, looking back over his shoulder as he pulls one off the middle row.</p>
<p>“No, uh, that one?!” He points elsewhere at the shelf.</p>
<p>Kyle leans down and pulls it out an inch. “This one?”</p>
<p>“<em>Ahk!</em>—” He shakes his head, intense stare going all the while. “Getting warmer!”</p>
<p>They pick out more. Tweek makes him check all over the shelf, grinning like a jackal. Kyle puts back another wrong title and Tweek points decisively low. “I think it’s that one on the bottom!”</p>
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</div><p>Kyle keeps a locked stare with him as he gets down on his hands and knees, and Tweek leans over the desk to watch.</p>
<p>Kyle twists around to hold it up. “You want <em> this one?</em>” </p>
<p><em>Advanced French.</em> They have Spanish together. </p>
<p>Tweek bites his lip and nods vigorously, not looking at the book. “Oh Jesus! That’s totally it, man!” Kyle checks it out to him and Tweek lays his hands over the cover as he slides it across to him. “Thanks,” he whispers with a glint, then stalks off giddily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On Wednesday at their cafeteria table Kyle slides in next to Stan and gets right to eating his lunch, noting Clyde’s sudden interest—or maybe that’s just for his tater tots. Kenny looks pleased with Kyle’s enthusiasm to chow down and gives him bedroom eyes, but then that’s nothing new. The others go on about Friday at the cabin.</p>
<p>“—and my dad said he might let us take the yacht out on the lake. It might even be warm enough to break out the jet skis,” says Token.</p>
<p>“Damn! Now I’m definitely going!” Kenny declares. “I gotta get my ass on one of those!”</p>
<p>“I’ll race ya!” says Butters.</p>
<p>“I’ll get in on that,” Kyle adds.</p>
<p>Craig scoffs into his sandwich, “Like your ass would fit. It's so fat you'd sink your jet ski."</p>
<p>Stan scowls, leaning closer to Kyle like a protective wall. Kyle doesn’t flinch. He just tosses another tot in his mouth and asks “Why are you so obsessed with my ass, Craig? It’s like you want to fuck me or something.”</p>
<p>Kenny howls “Oh shit! Called out!” and Craig actually blanches. </p>
<p>Tweek constricts his arm tighter and cackles at his boyfriend’s expense. “Do I get to watch?”</p>
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</div><p>Butters covers his mouth to snicker, and Stan just looks flustered and presses into Kyle more. Kyle presses back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And over the whole course of the week, when Kyle catches Stan looking, it’s like a little glimmer of hope. So he allows himself to feel flattered.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Meanwhile, Stan is inside his head the whole first half of the week. He only comes out to speak one word sentences. “Yeah” and “no” and “uhuh”. Barely manages an occasional conversation that’s not monosyllabic. He’s so preoccupied he doesn’t even remember to debate getting Wendy that candygram. His thoughts consume him. Kyle this. Kyle that. Show Kyle you think he’s sexy. Fucking how?</p>
<p>In the mornings he blasts Pinkerton from the truck stereo on the way to school. Lets the lyrics into his soul.</p>
<p>“<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_8ESeMaT1jc"><em>Sometimes I push too hard. Sometimes you fall and skin your knee. I never meant to do all that I've done to you—Please baby say it's not too late!</em></a>”</p>
<p>Suddenly he feels like he understands Rivers Cuomo on a spiritual level.</p>
<p>Then as the days pass something changes. Something is up with Kyle this week. Stan can’t put his finger on it. Everyday he looks better. He talks more. He smiles more. He catches Stan looking at him in Spanish and instead of shying away he grins back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By Thursday it’s undeniable. They head to class together, and this time when Kyle walks down the hall it’s with confidence. Stan has to say something.</p>
<p>“Hey dude, did you change your outfit or something? You look different today.” </p>
<p>Kyle lifts his chin. “I feel different.”</p>
<p>They continue out the doors and Stan cautiously adds, “You look really good.”</p>
<p>They pause at the junction before they part ways for class. Kyle smiles, then gives Stan’s elbow a pat. It’s like lightning up his arm. “Thanks, dude. You too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night Stan lays on his bed and listens to the album again, and <em> it </em> feels different too. He shuts his eyes and imagines Kyle there with him, the two of them taking up his bed, pressed together so there’s enough room. Laughing about something stupid Clyde said in economics and eating pizza, then making plans for the weekend. They’ll start making out and Stan will slide his hand up Kyle’s side, grab him through his shirt. Bite down his neck as he lays on his stomach, sink his teeth in that perfect, soft skin. He’ll pull Kyle on top of him, feel the wind knocked out of him from his full weight as he fucks him cowgirl style. </p>
<p>Stan whines and undoes his pants, stuffing his hand in to take care of his hardon. Replays the memory of Kyle’s frustrated grunts Sunday morning and comes imagining how he would groan Stan’s name.</p>
<p>He lays there for a minute after, breathing heavily. Wishing there was red hair falling in his face. They would cuddle up together under his blankets afterward. Listen to this song as they fall asleep against each other. </p>
<p>“<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Asco6xgp_k"><em>I'm a lot like you so please, hello, I'm here, I'm waiting. I think I'd be good for you and you'd be good for me.</em></a>”</p>
<p>When he’s done and cleaned up, Stan turns over on his side to grab the CD case off his nightstand, and holds it up to his eyes to read the tracklist on the back. <em> Like a love letter</em>, he thinks.  </p>
<p>He knows what he has to do. He sends a quick text to Butters, calling in an owed favor. If he doesn’t want this to stay a fantasy Kyle has to know how he feels. Time to go full Freddie Mercury. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>On Friday during sixth period English the teacher lets them vote on a romance movie to mark the occasion. The girls unanimously decide they’re all dying to watch Hairspray, so Kyle prepares to plug his ears for an hour. That is until the door bangs open and Butters waltzes in with a box, looking positively giddy.</p>
<p>“Candygrams!” He announces, dropping them on the end of the teacher’s desk. </p>
<p>Kyle drops his chin back into his hand. Oh great, now he has to endure this too. Just because he gets stares doesn’t mean anyone’s going to be going out of their way to spend money on him, and he knows for a fact Stan hasn’t stepped foot near the gram booth. At least it means this stupid holiday spirit week is almost over.</p>
<p>Butters starts pulling them out and reading off names. “I got one for Annie Knitts!” He calls, tossing it to her. “And... two for Bebe Stevens!”</p>
<p>The girls open theirs excitedly, squealing as they read them. </p>
<p>“One for Tweek Tweak!” He calls to no one’s surprise.</p>
<p>“Oh man!” Tweek sniggers at the dirty poem inside. “How’d he manage to slip this past the committee?”</p>
<p>“He might have had a little help on the inside,” Butters says with a wink. He digs into the box, reading out more names.</p>
<p>A few desks over Kyle hears Henrietta groan dramatically. “This has to be the most retarded corporate ritual of all time. Go ahead and fork over all your money so you can profess your <em> prophetic love </em> through tacky cards and chocolate. It’s just another way of signaling which posers are getting laid and which aren’t.”</p>
<p>For once Kyle has to agree with her, but then—</p>
<p>“One for Henrietta Biggle!” Butters proclaims, head shooting up to find her.</p>
<p>“Uh, excuse me?” She looks horrified, and only catches it out of sheer reflex. “Which of you assholes thought this would be funny?” But then she reads the sender name and peaks a brow. She refolds the note and stuffs it in her bra as she tears the wrapper off the lollipop that came with it, sticking it in her mouth without another complaint.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div><p>Fuck, even she got one? Kyle pulls the front of his hat down over his eyes.</p>
<p>“...And one for Kyle Broflovski!” </p>
<p>His head whips up and suddenly there’s a note taped to a lollipop getting thrown at him. He barely catches it in time. “What? Me?” </p>
<p>Butters giggles. This better not just be from him as a pity gram. “I got a special emergency order from someone last night, so I made one exception to the deadline!”</p>
<p>Kyle rips off the heart-shaped lolly to open it up and stares at the message inside, written in big, blocky letters. Written in Stan’s handwriting.</p>
<p>‘Come with me to the lake tonight? Y/N’</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div><p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>After school in the parking lot Kenny hovers by Stan’s truck while he walks around to throw his backpack in the bed. </p>
<p>“We’ll just have to wait and see, man,” Kenny goes on, leaning against his front fender. “If she shows up she shows up. If not then I got a few backups in mind.”</p>
<p>Stan leans over the hood to pick some dead leaves out of his windshield wipers. “Just don’t expect to get a ride with me, dude. Either my passenger seat’s taken or I’m not going,” he says with a hint of dread. Kyle definitely got the gram. Can’t take it back now.</p>
<p>“<em>Ohhhh</em>, Butters told me you begged him to bend the rules ‘cause your dumb ass forgot to buy a candygram in time. You send it to Wendy or Kyle?”</p>
<p>Stan glares. Now really isn’t when he wants to be thinking about her on top of everything else. He hasn’t checked his phone since texting her the cabin situation. She deserves at least an explanation why he didn’t send an invite. “I didn’t forget, I just needed time to think—”</p>
<p>Kyle strides up to the truck and slaps the candygram down on the hood, making Stan jump and whip around to him. Kyle grins, pulls the lollipop from his mouth, and says “Pick me up at eight.” Then he immediately struts off, leaving the open note there.</p>
<p>Stan watches him go with startled eyes, then picks up the paper. A big circle encases the Y, and under that is an added ‘fuck yes’. </p>
<p>“Oh shit!” Kenny hollers, leaning way over the hood to read over his shoulder. “Get some!”</p>
<p>“<em>Oh fuck</em>,” Stan breathes, staring at it in disbelief. Then he stuffs it in his jacket pocket and throws open the driver's side door so fast it dings Kevin’s car. He has to get home right now. Has to get ready.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wanna see more updates and art? Check my tumblr https://dusksmote.tumblr.com/ B^)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Juicy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter got SEX in it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was originally gonna be the last chapter but then the epilogue turned into a fourth chapter so sit tight ✌️</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>—</p>
</div><br/><strong>Boofing / Hot railing:</strong> methods for doing meth<br/><strong>Geeking:</strong> how someone acts when they're high out of their mind<br/><strong>Crystal:</strong> methamphetamine</blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kyle calls out from work to hurry home then locks himself in the bathroom for hours, much to Ike’s chagrin. He takes an ungodly long time in the shower, making sure everything is pleasing to the senses, then shaves everywhere—just in case. Fixing his hair takes forever, but when doesn’t it? When he emerges he glows. </p>
<p>Kyle digs out his best pair of jeans, the ones that fit perfectly like a hug, and throws on a solid black shirt over that. Yes, comfortable yet refined, he thinks looking in the mirror. He runs a hand up the back of his leg, over his ass, and smirks. Not bad, Broflovski. </p>
<p>It might be unusually warm but that doesn’t mean it won’t get cold on the lake at night, so he throws on a flannel, and lets it stand open. Damn, he hasn’t worn this thing in ages. Horizontal stripes are not usually his friend. Tonight that’s contrary. He smooths the shirt along his sides with a little pride. When he lifts his head again he scrutinizes the look. Something’s missing. A little skin. He rolls the cuffs up to his elbows. There—now he’s got moxie. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div><p>“Are you finally done in the bathroom?” Ike asks from the doorway, and pauses when he sees Kyle standing in the mirror with a haughty grin. Ike looks him up and down, shocked by the apparent vanity. “Are you going out tonight?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I am!” Kyle declares, pushing past him to get to the hall. </p>
<p>Ike follows closely. “But it’s Valentine’s Day!”</p>
<p>“That’s right!”</p>
<p>Ike stalls at the top of the stairs in disbelief, then clutches the railings and hollers “Mom! Kyle’s going out on a <em> date!</em>”</p>
<p>“Oh good! My little man has a Valentine? How cute!” She coos, coming out of the kitchen. She spots Kyle as he steals a mint from the bowl on the coffee table and clutches her chest. “Kyle you look so handsome!” Instantly she comes up to him and starts preening his hair.</p>
<p>He barely gets it out of the wrapper and in his mouth before he has to wave his arms to keep her off. “Yeah, Ma, alright! Everyone’s going up to the Black’s cabin, so I won’t be back home till late.”</p>
<p>“The cabin? How late—” Suddenly the doorbell rings and Kyle jumps and turns to get it. “Alright young man, curfew is still midnight!”</p>
<p>“God, Mom, who am I, Cinderella?” He calls back as she follows him to the door. </p>
<p>Ike plops down to sit between the rungs of the stair railing. “Oh yeah, who’s your <em> Prince Charming?</em>”</p>
<p>Kyle throws the door open wide and there on the front step is Stan, looking dashing as ever in an open hoodie and dark beanie. He gets up from the doorframe and grins the second he sees Kyle, looking a little astounded with a quick glance over him. </p>
<p>“Hey dude,” he says excitedly, catching Kyle’s eyes again.</p>
<p>Kyle grins slyly back. “Hey.”</p>
<p>Stan pinches his lips to gulp, then smiles like an idiot. “Damn,” he says in a low voice. “You look really good.”</p>
<p>“Oh hi Stanley, are you and Kyle carpooling?” Sheila asks, stepping up behind her son. She does a double take. “My, Stanley, you look so fit! Has the new baseball season started already?”</p>
<p>Kyle groans, stepping out the door. She has to ask every time he’s over.</p>
<p>Stan chuckles. “Next month.”</p>
<p>Sheila tries to look past him at his truck. “And who was that girl you were seeing? Testaburger’s daughter? Is she coming too?”</p>
<p>“Oh, uh, we’re just friends,” says Stan, scratching his neck, eyes not leaving Kyle’s. Kyle grins back.</p>
<p>Ike comes up behind Sheila and blinks at them in bewilderment, seeing their mutual expressions. “Are you guys gay?!” He blurts.</p>
<p>Kyle shoots him a glare and the finger as their mom spins around, raising her voice “Ike, that’s not appropriate! Get back in the house young man—”</p>
<p>Kyle grabs Stan’s arm to yank him toward the truck. “Alright, we’re leaving!”</p>
<p>“Bye bubbe!” She calls from the step as they dash down the drive to get away. “And no alcohol, you hear me?”</p>
<p>“Okay! <em> Jesus.</em>” They climb inside, and Kyle settles into the passenger seat. It’s still locked in his preferred adjustment, pushed all the way back so he can kick his feet up against the dashboard. He does so immediately, it’s his rightful resting pose. He laughs. “Get me out of here, dude.”</p>
<p>Stan sticks his key in the ignition. “On it.” The engine comes alive and the stereo starts up again, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rl089HxOPkw">resuming the disc</a> where it left off on the drive over.</p>
<p>“—<em>I’ve got your letter. You’ve got my song.</em>”</p>
<p>Kyle guffaws as they speed away from the curb. “Do you listen to anything else?”</p>
<p>Stan grins at the road. “It’s kind of been on my mind all week.”</p>
<p>Kyle raises his brows at him, and twirls some hair on his finger. “Well—You could stand to expand your library a little. Listen to some songs <em> I </em>like for a change.”</p>
<p>“Make me a playlist,” says Stan, “of all your garbage MC Dreidal EPs.”</p>
<p>“Hah! Asshole. You love my junk.”</p>
<p>Stan glances at him with a little smirk. No truer words. He looks back at the road. “Hey, you know Weezer and Green Day are touring together right now? They’re gonna be doing a concert in Denver in a couple months.”</p>
<p>“Oh shit, now that’s a lineup.”</p>
<p>“Right? We should see about getting tickets. That last one we went to was a lot of fun.”</p>
<p>“Yeah!” Kyle smiles, admiring him in the dark cab interior. He lays his chin in his hand. “It could be like a date or something.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div><p>“Oh.” Stan blinks at the road ahead, then grips the wheel tight with a grin. “Okay!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time they roll up the party is already underway. Music pounds from inside the cabin, a cute A frame with big windows, backed up to a dock right on the water. Stan lets Kyle take a slight lead walking up the gravel driveway. There up the steps is Tweek, leaning in the open doorway and smoking a fat roach down so far it’s nearly burning his fingers. He grins as they approach, squirming against the doorframe with the rhythm of the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-AujP3ZFVs">electronica blaring inside</a>.</p>
<p>
  <em> “Hey big daddy what you doin’ tonight? I got so many honeys on my request line! Spendin’ all their money for a taste of my time—I don't want ‘em ‘cause I want you, boo, you're lookin’ so fine! And now I'm ready, so ready baby, give me a sign. If you let me I might let you get a piece of my pie! So break me off, come get me at the front of the line—I got that big big heavy, what you got in mind?” </em>
</p>
<p>“Whoa, back it up, Broflovski,” Tweek says with sensual command, eyes rolling over him to his hips.</p>
<p>Craig steps out from behind the door. “Entry fee.”</p>
<p>Oh boy, the boof troop is on door patrol. Kyle folds his arms and Stan rolls his eyes, then digs in his back pocket. He pulls out a wax paper bag of pre-rolls, farm logo on one side, and tosses it to him. “Go wild.”</p>
<p>Craig pops it open and takes a big whiff. “Oh fuck yeah. Hey! Clyde! Smell this shit!”</p>
<p>Stan nudges Kyle forward with a hand on his back and Tweek gives him that wired smile as they step up. “I needed a textbook today,” he says, big plume of smoke billowing out his mouth over him. Tweek cocks his head, glancing back up at Kyle’s face with flickering eyes, pupils blown. “But your fat ass wasn’t there.”</p>
<p>Stan’s hand moves protectively to Kyle’s shoulder. </p>
<p>Kyle scoffs. “Out of the way, Freek.”</p>
<p>Tweek sniggers and lets them pass, sucking in one last hit as he watches them step inside, and flicks the roach across the gravel drive to get up and follow.</p>
<p>“Tweek is geeked, dude,” Stan whispers in Kyle’s ear.</p>
<p>Kyle laughs. “When isn’t he?”</p>
<p>The inside is modern rustic, open floor plan lit up low and warm by dozens of hanging glass bulbs. The conversation pit around the fireplace is all taken up by Valentines, Bebe cruising in Clyde’s lap with a cup in hand while he pokes his nose in the weed bag. Beside them Nichole and Token chat over some White Claws, with Red and Kevin on their other side waving to get a grab at the pre-rolls. Scott Malkinson sits stag, pushed to the end of the couch. He watches Sophie Gray across the room, eyes poking out over the top of his drink. She’s too busy playing with her hair and laughing at Jimmy’s standup to notice. Cartman completely dominates the big armchair, arms and legs spread wide like a king. He’s got an open bottle in hand and watches Butters dance with dull interest. Still others hang about, drinking, conversing, trying to score. </p>
<p>For a second Stan and Kyle just stand in the entryway, taking it all in.</p>
<p>“Yooo! You guys showed up!” Suddenly Kenny pops up from behind, and wraps his arms around them, squeezing them close and encouraging them forward. “Was starting to get lonely.”</p>
<p>Kyle scoffs as the three of them march together in an awkward line. “Where’s <em> your </em> date, hotshot?” </p>
<p>“Not sure, was kinda hoping Stan would be up for sharing.”</p>
<p>“Not likely, dude!” says Stan, maneuvering around Jenny and Lola as they round a wood support beam into the kitchen. They nearly run into Bradley as he hurries out. “Damn, did Token invite the whole fucking grade?”</p>
<p>Kyle glances around from face to face, and catches the sound of someone yelling. </p>
<p>“—and I’ll feed you to a dog, twerp!”</p>
<p>He cocks an unenthused brow, spotting the threat’s source. “What is <em> she </em> doing here?” </p>
<p>Leaned against the side of the stairs is Henrietta, quellazaire in hand with a smoldering cigarette at the end, scowling after her brother through thick eyeliner. Her whole face is caked on with near-white foundation, fat tits and upper arms popping out the top of her ripped black dress. </p>
<p>Kenny instantly releases his friends to stride to her. “Yooo! Henrie!” Her eyes slide over to him with a total lack of enthusiasm, but when he snatches her up and pulls her in by the hips she lays a sensual hand on his chest. Kenny stuffs his face in her neck. “There’s my goddess of death!” </p>
<p>“Uh, get off me, loser. Unless you want me to put this out in your eye,” she growls back, eyes scanning him hungrily.</p>
<p>He makes a flirtatious grin and gives her ass a squeeze. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”</p>
<p>“Hey, I think I spy an open bar,” Stan says, pointing at a complete array of bottles and mixers.</p>
<p>Oh good, a distraction from whatever the hell they’re looking at. Kyle shoots him a competitive glint. “Bet I can drink more than you.”</p>
<p>Stan laughs, and they make their way over. “Bet I can get drunker than you!”</p>
<p>They pour a couple shots of Christian Brothers and throw back, then shudder. Stan wipes the excess from the corner of his mouth while Kyle makes them some mixed drinks out of a little ginger ale and a lot of vodka. </p>
<p>“Fuck, I hope there’s food here somewhere,” Stan says, hand to his forehead. He hasn’t eaten anything since that morning, feeling like he might puke from nerves all day. </p>
<p>Kyle hands him his drink. He’s in a similar predicament. “I’m just hoping I actually manage to get trashed this time.” </p>
<p>Stan clicks their plastic cups together. “Then you better chug.”</p>
<p>Kyle smirks. “Watch this.” He tips the cup back and Stan stares with amazement as he downs the whole thing. Watches how he clenches his eyes tight and his throat moves as he gulps. One hand gripping the counter, belly pressed against it. It’s weirdly arousing. Stan’s nothing if not impressed.</p>
<p>Kyle slams down the cup. Empty. He puts a hand on the top of his stomach, looking like he may be having regrets, then holds up a finger. He covers his mouth with a fist and belches. “Fuck,” he groans, rubbing his stomach as he glances at Stan with a pitiful grin. Catching his expression.</p>
<p>Stan’s eyebrows are so high they’re in his bangs. “That was so good.” He must already be feeling a bit of liquid courage, because he reaches right out and runs his hand over Kyle’s, up his bare arm, fingers sliding just under his flannel sleeve.</p>
<p>Kyle blurts out a laugh and steps closer to cup Stan’s elbow. “Are you feeling tipsy already?”</p>
<p>Stan chuckles sheepishly. “I’m feeling something right now,” he admits, pulling Kyle closer, feeling his weight press him against the counter. </p>
<p>“Feels like we’ve been here before,” says Kyle, laying into him. “But the music was better.”</p>
<p>They grin at each other and Stan moves his hand around to Kyle’s side, squeezing the soft excess. “Good enough for another dance?”</p>
<p>Kyle leans in to reach the bottle behind him. “I’m gonna need to get <em> way </em>more drunk.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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</div><p>Kenny smirks from beside the stairs, catching sight of Stan and Kyle’s proximity through the corner of his eye. Hopefully this means he’s not the only lucky one tonight. Suddenly there’s a finger on his chin, and Henrietta turns his head back to her.</p>
<p>“You ask me here just to watch those posers dry hump each other?” She deadpans, blowing smoke in his face.</p>
<p>Kenny pulls her in tighter, her hips against his. He admires the downward view. “Shit, you didn’t read that part in my candygram?” He traces a finger down her throat and over her chest, hooking the hem of her top and tugging slowly, pale tits heaping out.</p>
<p>“Not so fast, trailer trash,” she warns, knocking his hand off. She reaches into her cleavage and pulls out the folded note. “I think I’m entitled to one pussy licking first.”</p>
<p>He grins eagerly. “You wanna cash that in right now?”</p>
<p>Henrietta’s eyes glaze over him and for the first time that night she smirks. “Carry me up those stairs and I’ll let you eat whatever you want.”</p>
<p>Kenny claps her ass with both hands and lifts. She locks her legs around him and off they go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Down in the conversation pit the next joint makes the rounds. Pot smoke dissipates out the big open doors leading down to the dock and water’s edge. Red and Kevin have slinked off somewhere, and Token and Nichole have already dipped for fresh air. Craig’s claimed what was Cartman’s chair, relaxing in his haze, nodding along to the deafening music. Tweek sits in his lap, leaned way over the end table beside them, busy cutting a line of crushed crystal on the glass surface.</p>
<p>“Hey, quit hogging the joint!” Bebe whines from Clyde’s embrace, texting at the same time.</p>
<p>Jimmy goes on smoking down to the filter.</p>
<p>“Puff puff pass, dude!” Clyde looks across the pit to Craig. “Hey, light the next one.”</p>
<p>He’s already got a fresh joint out of the bag, and pats Tweek’s thigh. “Light me up, babe.”</p>
<p>Tweek lifts his head with a spooky grin, reaches into his bag, and whips out a butane torch. “<em>Ngh!</em>—I give you the gift of fire!” He flicks the knob and ignites it, blue flame spitting from the end like a dagger point. Craig puts the joint to his lips and leans toward him, hugging him from behind as Tweek lights the end.</p>
<p>“Someone pre-dial 911,” Stan says as he and Kyle approach, his arm over Kyle’s shoulders, Kyle’s about his waist. They lean on each other for support with cups in hand. “For when retard third baseman gets his face melted.”</p>
<p>Craig blows smoke out the corner of his mouth. “Oh, did you guys finally stop taking shots out of each others’ mouths?”</p>
<p>Tweek sniggers, flicking off the torch to cuddle into Craig’s chest. “Yeah, man, don’t drink the whole kitchen!”</p>
<p>“Say that to us the next time you’re sober,” Kyle quips, though he’s far from sober himself, and lets his hand wander Stan’s back. Pinching as he goes.</p>
<p>“You guys were getting p-pretty handsy in there,” Jimmy points out, putting out the joint in the ashtray on the coffee table. “Fellas, I think love is in the air.”</p>
<p>Stan laughs and sips his drink to keep from replying.</p>
<p>“Yeah, you guys come as friends? Or Valentines?” Bebe teases with a look at their posture.</p>
<p>Kyle glances Stan’s way, giving him a quizzical smirk. “Are you my Valentine?”</p>
<p>Stan turns to him and mirrors the expression. “Am I?”</p>
<p>“Kyyyyyyle!” Someone calls from the bathroom doorway. Butters stumbles out and clutches onto a support beam on the way over, leaning way forward with a huge smile. God damn, he’s really drunk. </p>
<p>“Where’d you go, lightweight?” Bebe calls.</p>
<p>He staggers over and grabs Kyle’s arm, trying to drag him down into the pit. There’s a fresh hickey half-hidden along the base of his neck. “Let’s dance!” </p>
<p>“Whoa!” Kyle exclaims, sliding out from under Stan’s arm so they don’t tumble down the stairs. “Stan!”</p>
<p>He laughs, grabbing Kyle’s cup from him, not about to help him. “I get next song.”</p>
<p>Kyle sticks out his tongue over his shoulder, but then he’s stumbling too and grabs Butters to steady them both. Suddenly Butters’ arms are all over him, dancing smooth and sexy. Kyle laughs at the absurdity and lets him lead, just swaying on his feet. The alcohol’s really hitting him hard, or maybe the music finally got good—either way he’s just drunk enough to join in.</p>
<p>“Oh great, you two queermos gonna make out now?” Cartman sneers, doing up his belt and eyeing the dancing duo as he steps over.</p>
<p>Craig cocks a brow at him—his stringy hair, slick with sweat. “Where the fuck have you been, lardass?”</p>
<p>“Uh, taking a dump,” he snaps back, giving him and Tweek the stink eye. “Who said you could take my seat?”</p>
<p>“Did Butters help you wipe?” Tweek asks with a shit-eating grin.</p>
<p>“I helped him with something!” Butters shoots Cartman a lascivious leer, pressing up against Kyle and hanging from his neck. Suddenly <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UBxMykOlRe4">a new song starts</a>, high and melodic. Butters’s face lights up. “I love this song!” He declares, stepping back so he and Kyle can dance side by side.</p>
<p>“<em>I keep it juicy juicy, I eat that lunch. She keep that booty booty, she keep that plump. </em> <em> That natural beauty beauty, yeah, yeah—If you could see it from the front, wait till you see it from the back, back, back, back, back—</em>”</p>
<p>Kyle cackles and gets into it, jiving along with him. </p>
<p>“Oh fuck!” Tweek’s losing his shit, falling back against Craig, while the others around the circle watch with interest. </p>
<p>Someone wolf whistles from the stairs—Kenny. He waves at them with his phone in hand, casting the song to the speaker system. Henrietta stands beside him, looking properly ravished and damn proud. “Yeah, Kyle!” He shouts. “Shake that ass!”</p>
<p>Kyle sticks his tongue out at him and raises his fists, rolling his hips. Stan nearly trips over the coffee table trying to maneuver around the edge of the circle, not watching where he’s going.</p>
<p>“Take a seat, Marsh, before you pass out,” Craig jeers, so Stan goes ahead and does just that, sliding in along the hearth before the fire.</p>
<p>Bebe’s enjoying the show as much as the rest of them, but asks “How come there’s so many songs about ass now? What ever happened to tits!”</p>
<p>“Ass is the sophisticated choice,” says Cartman, snatching the joint out of Craig’s ashtray. “Wouldn’t expect a chick to get it.” </p>
<p>Kenny sneaks up behind him and steals it right out of his mouth. “Yoink!”</p>
<p>“Aye!”</p>
<p>“No fucking way!” Bebe protests. “Clyde, you like tits better, right?”</p>
<p>He cuddles into hers for emphasis. “Tits! All the way!”</p>
<p>Craig snorts, digging out another joint. “You can’t ask him. Clyde’s not sophisticated.”</p>
<p>“Fine! Kenny?” </p>
<p>He slides in next to Butters, dragging Henrietta along with him, and pulls her in to dance. One hand on her flank, the other for dedicated joint smoking. He twists his hand around so she can get a hit, black lipstick smudging the filter. “Tits are nice,” he says, moving to give her butt a squeeze. “But ass is nicer.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, ass!” Tweek agrees, lighting the blow torch again. Craig gets another joint going around the circle with his help, and Tweek pulls out his hot railing pipe.</p>
<p>“You don’t count! You’re gay!” Bebe whips around to Stan. “Stan! Tits or ass!”</p>
<p>He’s been steady staring at Kyle the whole song, watching him move, shaking everything he’s got. Those fucking awesome thighs, curving up into the most magnificent ass he’s ever seen. Butters titters drunkenly, grinding up against him, and has the fucking audacity to whip his arm around and spank him. Kyle nearly jumps out of his skin with a squeal. </p>
<p>“Ass,” Stan says, without hesitation.</p>
<p>“Oh shit! Stan’s an ass man!” Tweek howls, blow torching the glass pipe.</p>
<p>It gets Kyle to look over. He smirks at Stan’s flustered expression, and runs his hands over his thighs, rolling his hips a little smoother just for him.</p>
<p>“<em>Sell it big, don't wanna sell you light. I don't buy it, where the cellulite? He said the body unbelievable—can't trust a big butt and a Gemini.</em>”</p>
<p>Kyle makes a hook out of his finger and beckons him. What can Stan do except stand and go to him? Kyle drapes his arms over Stan’s shoulders, so he constricts Kyle tight. That perfect embrace. Either Stan’s wasted or he’s losing his mind. The temptation to just grab him by the seat of his pants and squeeze is driving him crazy. They move together to the music, and it’s a fucking wonder Kyle can’t feel how hard he is against his stomach.</p>
<p>Butters claps gleefully and Cartman cackles, saying “I always knew you were gay for Jew-mongous and his pimply ass!”</p>
<p>Stan just pulls Kyle closer and scoffs. “You’re jealous, dude. Look who has a date and who doesn’t.”</p>
<p>Butters slaps his hands over his mouth, looking like he’s about to burst out laughing.</p>
<p>Kyle raises his brows at Stan with amusement. “Oh, this is a date now?” Stan grins back like he’s been caught red handed.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah! Like I’d want ginger cow’s fat chode anywhere near me!” Cartman snaps back.</p>
<p>Butters can’t hold it back anymore. “You’ve had a crush on Kyle since eighth grade!” He blurts.</p>
<p>“Oh shit!” Kenny howls from Henrietta’s embrace. “The truth comes out!”</p>
<p>Bebe nearly chokes coughing on the new joint. “Cartman’s gay?!” </p>
<p>“He’s got a <em> fat crush!</em>” Clyde jeers.</p>
<p>“No I fucking don’t!” He shouts, red in the face.</p>
<p>Kenny nearly falls on his ass laughing, and Kyle’s right there with him, hanging onto Stan while they cackle hideously. His head is reeling from alcohol, rolling on his shoulders then pressing against Stan’s chest. They stagger back toward the fireplace, and fall onto the hearth, wrapping up together. Stan squeezes him close, and spits when some curly red hair gets in his mouth. It just makes Kyle laugh harder.</p>
<p>Butters isn’t done yet. “You said you wanted him to crush you between his thighs!” Another uproar ensues.</p>
<p>Tweek puts the end of his pipe to the line and snorts it up, powder vaporizing in the superheated tube. He reels back and slings an arm across Craig’s shoulders, kissing him open mouthed and breathing into him. When he pulls away he’s smirking. “Who doesn’t want that?”</p>
<p>Craig grins back, white cloud of smoke streaming from his nose. His hands run up Tweek’s thighs, expression lecherous. “He’s got more than enough to go around.”</p>
<p>Kyle lifts his head from Stan’s chest, scowling out from their cuddling embrace. “Shut up or I’ll sit on you!”</p>
<p>Craig clasps his hands, voice sardonic and high. “I would be <em>so</em> happy.” Tweek sniggers into his mouth, and they grab each other by the hair and smash their mouths together again.</p>
<p>Cartman is fuming mad, Kenny and the couch still laughing at his expense. “You fags are deranged!” He shouts. “Why would I want Kyle’s fat flab—I pound more tight ass than any of you!”</p>
<p>“That’s pretty bold talk from a f-fat virgin,” says Jimmy, chuckling.</p>
<p>Bebe pauses to sneer “Yeah, what ass?” </p>
<p>Cartman’s look is sinisterly proud. He grabs Butters’ wrist and yanks him in possessively. Butters falls against his chest with shock. “This one!” He boasts, locking him in by the neck. “Butters’ ass is my property!”</p>
<p>Butters instantly cuddles into him with a flushed grin. “That’s right! I’m his slave!”</p>
<p>Cartman just as soon pushes him away. “Who’s a virgin now, dicklick!” He snaps at the couch. </p>
<p>Clyde balks and Bebe grimaces. “Ew!”</p>
<p>Kenny lets Henrie go to grab Butters as he stumbles, and gets him upright again. “Fuck yeah!” Kenny says. “Fat admirers unite!” </p>
<p>Butters giggles wickedly and they high five, clasping their hands together to dance. </p>
<p>“Where’s Stan!” Kenny whips his head around to find him. “He’s gotta get in here!”</p>
<p>He and Kyle are so caught up in each other on the hearth they don’t hear anything but each other sniggering. All Stan sees is Kyle’s smile lit up gold and his deep red curls reflecting flickering firelight. Feels only his warm body pressed against his in their close embrace. </p>
<p>“Damn, I had no idea I had so much competition,” Stan admits with a chuckle.</p>
<p>Kyle grins back, comfortable against him. “Looks like you were right. My ass is pretty popular.”</p>
<p>Stan gulps, hand sliding over his stomach around to his back. “Um, what I said Saturday—About people staring, because they think you’re hot.”</p>
<p>Kyle resituates to wrap around him tighter and raises his brows. “Yeah?”</p>
<p>He shakes his head. “I never meant to freak you out, dude, I guess—what I really meant was—<em>I </em> think you’re really hot,” he says, feeling uncomfortably warm in the face, and grinning despite that.</p>
<p>Kyle gapes with astonishment. Sure he figured, but hearing it makes it <em> real</em>. “Damn, dude,” He chuckles, breath hot on Stan’s face. “It’s like you <em> like </em>me or something.”</p>
<p>“It’s all I fucking think about, dude.” He wets his lips. “I really want to touch you.”</p>
<p>They both glance up, eyes meeting an inch apart. Kyle caresses his neck and whispers “So touch me.”</p>
<p>Stan makes a giddy grin back and pulls him in, grabbing him through his flannel and squeezing. Kyle cups his face and they shut their eyes, pressing together in a kiss. Stan makes a restrained groan into his mouth, hands running over the exaggerated curve of his back and grasping two handfuls of ass. It just makes Kyle weigh into him more, he has to splay a hand on the stonework and grab the back of Stan’s neck to keep them steady.</p>
<p>Clyde hasn’t failed to notice. He glances between them and the other pairs. Tweek and Craig sucking face on the armchair, Butters and Kenny dancing sexy for the amusement of their dates. Clyde sucks his joint with a bemused grin. “Whoa, this party got gay.”</p>
<p>Tweek pulls away from Craig with a smirk and climbs backwards off his lap, pulling him up out of the chair. “Let’s make it gayer.”</p>
<p>Craig likes the sound of that. They kick the coffee table out of the way and join the others in a dance. Tweek hangs on his shoulder one-handed, biting his lip as he rolls his pelvis against his boyfriend’s pants front, not caring who sees. He’s the coolest person here, running on pure crystal. His body’s operating on a higher level and it’s telling him go go go!</p>
<p>“Yesss!” Butters is feeling the energy. He rolls his shoulders, waving his arms at Cartman in a come-hither motion. “Dance with me, Eric!”</p>
<p>He’s climbing into the armchair to reclaim it. “No way! I’m not giving up my seat again!” So Butters gives up for the time being and jives with Kenny instead.           </p>
<p>Kyle pulls back from Stan finally, and they both breathe heavily, oblivious to the goings on around them. The whole world may as well not exist. “Fuck, dude,” Kyle laughs, forehead on Stan’s. They’re practically sitting on each other. Kyle’s leg wedged up under him, stomach taking up Stan’s lap, laying against him between his legs. “You have any idea how much I’ve fantasized about this?”</p>
<p>Stan’s looking at him with amazement. Is it too forward to say ‘ditch the party, come back to my house, let’s fuck to Weezer and fall in love’? “Do yours involve—” He has to pause as they kiss again. “—your seat in my truck, after a concert?”</p>
<p>Kyle giggles. “<em>My </em> seat?” He resituates again, getting comfortable against Stan, or maybe he’s just trying to get a better feeling of him.</p>
<p>Either way, Stan’s cock is straining in his pants, stabbing up into Kyle’s stomach. “Yeah, dude, it’s always been yours. Half of everything I have, it all belongs to you.”</p>
<p>Kyle bites his lip, feeling emboldened. He runs his hand down around Stan’s side to his firm ass. “Does <em>this</em> belong to me?”</p>
<p>Suddenly the fantasy Stan’s cooked up changes, and now he’s the one getting fucked against his truck’s dashboard. His voice is resolute. “It’s all yours.”</p>
<p>Kyle grins, pleased. He gives Stan’s ass a squeeze. “You’re super hard.”</p>
<p>Stan squeezes his back. “Are you?”</p>
<p>“I’m <em> so </em> fucking hard.”</p>
<p>Token’s head appears through the open double doors going out the back. He leans inside to shout “This boat’s leaving harbor! Who wants to go!”</p>
<p>“Ooh!” Butters exclaims, grinning upside down in Kenny’s grip as he’s dipped nearly to the floor. “Me! Me!”</p>
<p>“Fuck yeah, I’m in there!” Kenny hauls him back up and lets him go to grab Henrietta again, yanking her in at the hips. “Gonna let me motorboat on a motorboat?” He asks with a simper.</p>
<p>She puts a hand on his chest. “Don’t push your luck.” But then she’s heading out the back with him down to the dock.</p>
<p>Even Cartman’s climbing back out of his precious throne, saying “That cooler better have some real goddamn drinks in it—instead of your sissy seltzer shit!”</p>
<p>“Anyone else?” Token calls. “Tweek and Craig?”</p>
<p>“What’d’ya think, babe?” Craig asks, cupping his ass. “Booze cruise?”</p>
<p>Tweek wraps tight around his neck. “Fuck that, the only place we’re going is to the bathroom to rail lines.”</p>
<p>Craig's eyelids sink heavily. “You wanna rail something else too?”</p>
<p>Tweek grins impishly. “Now you’re speaking my language, man.”</p>
<p>“Come on Kyle!” Suddenly Butters has him by the arm and is dragging him off the hearth, out of Stan’s embrace. </p>
<p>“Oh fuck—” He nearly stumbles but manages to get his feet under him, and glances back at Stan apologetically.</p>
<p>Stan is quick to follow, sliding his arms back around him as they step out the back, passing a stony fire pit on the way down to the dock. Butters hurries ahead down the stairs to glom onto Cartman’s arm, letting the two of them walk alone together. </p>
<p>Low lighting lines the path down to the water and the light from inside illuminates their backs, but otherwise the scenery is dark. It’s pleasantly cool, faint zephyr rising up off the inky water. Across the lake, past the pine covered mountains, the silver moon looks almost full. </p>
<p>Down at the end of the dock sits the yacht, and Token’s already climbed in behind the wheel. Kenny offers Henrietta a hand and helps her climb aboard while Cartman and Butters catch up.</p>
<p>Kyle constricts around Stan’s middle, one hand tracing shapes on his back. Boating is just about the last thing on his mind, and he’s still got a raging hardon.</p>
<p>They come up to the stairs and suddenly Stan stops and looks over at him, caressing Kyle’s hip. “You know,” he says, like he’s just realized something. “I don’t really feel like going out on the lake right now.”</p>
<p>Kyle looks back with raised brows. “Bail?”</p>
<p>Stan pulls him in assuredly. He’s still hard too. “I think bail.”</p>
<p>They hustle back in, spot the stairs at the same time and both get the same idea. They flash each other smirks then climb them up to the loft, Kyle pulling him along by the hand. There’s a single bedroom, and it’s obviously already been used. Sheets thrown back on the bed, lingering smell of latex on the air, but in the dark it’s negligible. The only light comes from the moon through the open glass doors out to a balcony, providing just enough visibility to not trip.</p>
<p>They barely get the door shut behind them before they’re all over each other again, and Stan’s hands are totally unrestrained, grabbing the flesh of his back and digging in. Kyle’s on his toes, hands in Stan’s hair, kissing him roughly.</p>
<p>“Fuck, Kyle,” Stan groans into his mouth. “I just want all of you right now.”</p>
<p>Kyle chuckles, clutching him tight. This is so much, he still can’t believe it. He kisses him again to answer, but then he pulls back to gulp. “This isn’t <em> just </em>‘cause of my body, is it?”</p>
<p>Stan blinks at him and Kyle stares back, looking almost vulnerable. “I love your body,” he says, stroking up his back. Stan swallows too. “And I also think I’m kind of—in love with you.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god.” Kyle’s breathless. “Dude…”</p>
<p>He makes an abashed chuckle through his nose, forehead falling on Kyle’s. “You like me, right?”</p>
<p>It must be the most absurd question he’s ever heard, because the answer is so obvious. “I’m so in love with you, dude,” says Kyle, pulling his face into another kiss. He rocks his hips against Stan’s, belly pressing against him, tongue down his throat. </p>
<p>Stan eagerly picks up the hint and backs him up to the bed. They topple onto it, sinking deep in the plush mattress as they make out. Stan teases his hands up under Kyle’s shirt, kneading his soft flank and pushing up the fabric as he goes.</p>
<p>Kyle puts a hand on his wrist. “Let me leave the shirt on?”</p>
<p>Like Stan hasn’t seen him naked a thousand times. Or, at least when they were kids. </p>
<p>“Mmhm,” he agrees. There’ll be plenty of time to ease up to that. </p>
<p>Instead Kyle pushes back Stan’s hoodie and hooks his fingers in the hem of his shirt, yanking up. Stan sits up to help him out, pulling it off over his head with crossed arms. </p>
<p>Fuck, Kyle thinks, raising his head to watch. Stan’s pale skin glows white in the low moonlight, dark trail of hair tracing down from his naval. Kyle grins in the near-dark. “Flex for me?”</p>
<p>Stan sniggers like a buffoon, then does it anyway, hard abs standing out on his stomach.</p>
<p>Kyle bites his lip. “Fuck yeah.” </p>
<p>Stan smirks and sinks back in to play with Kyle’s pants front, rubbing the bulge in his jeans. He gets his fingers between him and denim, thumb popping the button open. It’s a bit of a struggle. He gets both hands on either side of his hips and yanks his pants down with a few good tugs, then they slide off like butter over smooth legs. Stan drops the jeans and feels down Kyle’s thick calf, admiring the silky quality of his skin.</p>
<p>“Did you shave your legs?” He asks, and kisses the inside of his knee without even thinking about it.</p>
<p>Kyle snickers. “I shaved everything, dude.”</p>
<p>Stan gapes, implication going straight to his dick. He’s in awe. “Fuck—Dude, you planned for this. You totally came here wanting to get fucked!”</p>
<p>Kyle sits up on one hand to grab him about the waist, smirking into his mouth. “I’m a mastermind.”</p>
<p>They make out again, and Stan gets a knee up on the bed to straddle him. He slides a hand over Kyle’s stomach, down to palm him through his briefs. Starts to tug those down too and Kyle whines.</p>
<p>“What?” Stan asks, pulling back to slide them off.</p>
<p>“...Don’t be disappointed.”</p>
<p>“Fuck that.” Stan’s not deterred. His hand already knows there’s something down there. He gets down on his knees, and raises his brows when he sees. “Dude—You’re worried over fucking nothing.”</p>
<p>Kyle rolls his eyes. “It’s average. But thanks.”</p>
<p>Stan’s already got his hard cock in his hand, head poking out of his fist, and pumps. He says sternly “Don’t be modest.”</p>
<p>Well in that case. Kyle leans back on his hands and opens his legs wider with a smirk. “Would look bigger if I wasn’t so fat.”</p>
<p>Stan raises his brows. “That’s impressive.” Then he goes right in, sucking down his dick all at once.</p>
<p>Kyle bites his lip with a groan, head back to enjoy. He manages to lift his head again to watch, and holds up his stomach with one hand, not wanting to smother him. Stan glances up appreciatively, face already sticky with sweat, bangs clinging to his forehead. Kyle pushes his hand through it, shrugging off his beanie.</p>
<p>Kyle’s breath is ragged. Stan’s mouth, constricting on him, sucking sloppily—it’s nice. But he wants more. Kyle grips a fistful of hair and tugs lovingly. “Get your fucking pants off, dude.”</p>
<p>Stan eagerly obliges, pulling off his cock with a wet pop. He stands and Kyle grabs him by his hips, pulling him back onto the bed with drunk coordination. They flop back on the mattress and wrap up together giggling at their own vertigo. Kyle’s turn to palm him through his pants while they tongue.</p>
<p>Stan pulls back enough to whisper “Front pocket—I got lube.”</p>
<p>Kyle gapes slightly. Good thing one of them thought ahead. He slides his hand over Stan’s hip and feels the squish of plastic packets under denim, just where he said they would be. “Dude—<em>you </em> fucking planned on this!”</p>
<p>Stan gulps and grins. “It was more like—hopeful precaution.”</p>
<p>It’s all the invitation Kyle needs. He yanks those fucking pants off him and turns out his pocket, spilling packets all over the bed like dropped playing cards. As Kyle shifts his hand through for one Stan pulls off his boxer briefs, hard cock springing free. He strokes himself, watching as he waits. Fuck Kyle looks so hot, sitting on the end of the bed, covered in nothing but that shirt. Low light against his hair and the pale skin of his thigh making him look almost ethereal. And his expression—Kyle scrutinizes the little label on one and tears it open with his teeth, spitting the little strip of plastic across the bed.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>Stan wraps around him impatiently, pulling Kyle back into his embrace, kissing him hard. He grabs Kyle’s cock, still wet with spit, and guides him to his own to frot against each other. The extra weight just helps add pressure, and he grabs onto Kyle’s side for support, love handles living up to their name.</p>
<p>“Fuck, Stan,” Kyle moans, curly bangs swinging in his eyes as he grinds on him. Stan’s hot against him, and the friction between them is enough to get him close, but he’s not about to come if it isn’t inside Stan. “I want to fuck you,” he says with muggy breath. Remembers what Butters said about sledgehammers. “I want to fuck you so hard.”</p>
<p>Stan nods, panting hard too. “Give me a little of the lube.” </p>
<p>Kyle squeezes some into his hand, and sits back to pour himself the rest, slicking up his cock as he watches Stan. How he lays back against the bed and lifts up his legs to reach under himself, hand sliding between his cheeks to smear lube over his hole. How he bites his lip as he fingers himself, pushing in slow and rhythmically, like he’s practiced this before. Stan’s eyes clench shut as he moans, sliding another in, then opens up to gaze at Kyle through his lashes. </p>
<p>Kyle’s absolutely throbbing in his hand. He crawls back on him, pulling Stan up against his groin by the hips, gets a finger in there too. </p>
<p>“Fuck!” Stan cries out with a whine. “Put it in me!”</p>
<p>“You’re so hot, dude, <em> fuck</em>.” Kyle chews his lip as he uses a hand to help push inside. Stan takes him in readily, locking his legs around him to pull him in deeper. Kyle presses him down into the mattress, crushing down as he fucks into him.</p>
<p>Stan rasps out a gasp and clutches to him tight, head thrown back against the sweaty sheets. He can hardly catch his breath, it’s like getting compressed by the biggest, softest lead blanket and fucked by a jackhammer. Kyle grips him under one knee, pushing Stan’s legs open as he thrusts into him. Gravity’s giving him an edge, and pulling up again is giving him a workout.</p>
<p>Stan’s fingers dig into his back, gasping with every thrust. His stiff cock aches between them, squeezed under Kyle’s weight. “Fuck!” He pants as Kyle pulls out to the head just to slam back into him. He repeats the motion, and Stan’s a cursing mess. “Fuck! <em> Fuck! </em> Harder!”</p>
<p>Kyle moves his hands to either side of him, laying into him. Stan feels so good around him, perfect body hot under his, with just the shirt between them. He bites his lip, feeling huge on top of him. Powerful. “You like that?”</p>
<p>Stan groans, wrapping around him tighter, face buried in his neck. “Jesus—Kyle,” he can hardly manage words. He squeezes the flesh at his shoulder blades and Kyle thrusts in him sharply, making him throw his head back and scream. “Fuck! Oh <em> shit! </em> ” He gasps and moans. “<em>Yes!</em>” Kyle’s knocking the wind out of him, and it’s making him see stars. </p>
<p>“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Kyle warns, voice strained in his ear as he clutches onto him. Stan can’t do anything but nod vigorously. Kyle groans, picking up the pace, plowing deep into him. He grips Stan’s shoulders tight and holds there as he comes, filling him with hot spunk. “<em>Fuck, Stan</em>,” he moans.</p>
<p>They lay there afterward panting heavily, and Stan constricts around Kyle’s neck with a spent grin. Downstairs the music pounds, loud enough to hear through the floor. He cups Kyle’s face, and for a minute they just kiss.</p>
<p>“Damn—Dude,” Stan manages when they pull apart. “That was unreal.”</p>
<p>Kyle chuckles, and when he shifts he can feel Stan’s cock stabbing him. “You’re still hard.”</p>
<p>“I got really close,” he admits. With all Kyle’s weight pressing down on his dick? It’s a wonder he didn’t.</p>
<p>That won’t stand. “So? How ‘bout you fuck me?”</p>
<p>Stan opens his eyes with eager surprise. “You’d let me?”</p>
<p>Kyle cups his jaw and grins into his mouth. “Fuck my fat ass.”</p>
<p>Stan’s up and wired now, suddenly finding his breath again. They both smirk as they switch around. Kyle pulls out, and cum leaks from Stan’s hole onto the sheets as he crawls off the bed to find another packet of lube. They’ve fallen over the floor, and by the time he’s snatched one up and got it open, slicking it over his dick, Kyle’s poised himself over the end of the bed. He looks lasciviously back at him with his jaw propped up in his palm, stomach down and waving his ass like an invitation.</p>
<p>Stan’s instantly on his knees again, jerking himself one handed as he caresses Kyle’s ass, squeezing it. He gives him a sharp pat and it jiggles under his hand. Stan lets go of himself to put both palms on him. Caressing the top where it sticks out from the exaggerated hollow of Kyle’s back, then down to the crease where ass meets thighs. He holds both cheeks, pushing up to admire the heft, and bounces them in his hands.</p>
<p>“Having fun back there?” Kyle asks, chin in his hand.</p>
<p>Too much, if Stan’s weeping cock is any indication. He spreads Kyle’s cheeks to lick along the underside of his balls and up his taint, thumb stroking his hole. He pours the excess lube over Kyle’s ass, letting it run down over his thumb before pushing inside. He follows with his tongue, lapping along the tight muscle as he stretches him open.</p>
<p>It sends a jolt up through Kyle. “Whoa, dude!” He looks back to see what he’s up to.</p>
<p>“Relax, man,” Stan coaches before going back in to kiss along his perineum, face deep in his ass. First finger sliding in along his thumb.</p>
<p>Kyle grips the sheets tight, legs shaking. “God—Stan, I’m relaxed, I just want your cock in me.”</p>
<p>So Stan gets to his feet and angles up, hissing as he glides in. “Fuuuck, your ass is amazing,” he moans, grabbing him by the hips so he can pound into it, and Kyle’s ass slaps against his thighs. It’s nothing but the sound of skin clapping on skin. </p>
<p>“Fuck! Oh fuck!” Kyle cries out, pressing back against his dick. This is doing serious shit to his back, but god is it worth it. He ducks his head against the bed, face in the sheets, and that helps.</p>
<p>Stan grasps his ass and doubles over him, thrusting in with everything he’s got. Kyle’s ass ripples from the force of his fucking. Stan has to dig his hands in his flesh for leverage, pulling him back hard to bury his dick in him. He holds Kyle back against him and works his hips to push in fully, panting hard and groaning in ecstasy. His quads are flush against the back of Kyle’s thighs, then he’s plowing into him again.</p>
<p>Kyle pushes back against his thrusts, pulling up handfuls of sheet to his face and whining through a bitten lip. He groans loudly “Fuck! Stan!”</p>
<p>Stan’s huffing with flared nostrils. Muscles tensing as he pounds into him. “God—Kyle—Fuck, let me come in you,” he rasps. It’s only minutes and he’s edging too. </p>
<p>Kyle reaches around to grab his wrist, pulling him in for encouragement. Between moans he demands “You fucking better.”</p>
<p>Stan’s fingers dig into his flesh, and he holds Kyle stiffly against his groin as he comes hard, sweat dripping from his hair as he gasps. Kyle hisses and bites his lip, feeling Stan’s dick twitch in him as he fills him. Stan picks up the thrusts again to ride out his orgasm, grinding against his ass through the last of it.</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” he groans, wrapping around Kyle from behind and laying against his back. Face lost in his hair. “I love you so fucking much.”</p>
<p>They collapse on the bed, and Kyle turns over onto his back, letting Stan cuddle up against him. “Goddamn,” he breathes with an incredulous smile. “I love you too, dude.” </p>
<p>They kiss slow and purposefully, like sealing the consummation. Kyle sniggers. “You taste like lube.”</p>
<p>Stan chuckles back. “Better than the alternative.”</p>
<p>Downstairs the song changes and they can hear drunken whooping. Party still in full swing. They should probably get out of here before anyone comes looking for them, and catches this mess. The sheets are ravaged, stained with sweat and spunk. Still, they stay a minute longer, Stan laying against Kyle’s stomach as they kiss.</p>
<p>When they do get up Stan grabs their clothes, throwing Kyle’s at him before putting on his own. As he does he finds he can’t stop grinning like a freak. </p>
<p>“Hey,” Kyle calls. His pants are up around his knees, and he lays over the edge of the bed again, bare ass up in the air as he smirks Stan’s way. “Can you help me get these up?”</p>
<p>Stan steps up eagerly. “With pleasure.” He grabs them by the belt loops on either side, tugging up slowly so he can watch how his ass resists fitting, savoring all twenty seconds. Kyle shimmies left and right to help him out, and they manage to make the squeeze. Kyle reaches down to do the button, and Stan gives him one adoring spank.</p>
<p>“Prick,” Kyle says with a grin.</p>
<p>Before they head back downstairs they gravitate toward the balcony door, just to check it out. They step out into the cool night air, light breeze skimming off the lake and up through their hair. Refreshing against hot skin and rapidly cooling sweat. Kyle goes to the ledge and leans over the glass railing, admiring the night sky and the dark serenity of the lake. Stan comes up behind him, sliding a hand along his shoulders, and they look out together. From all the way up here they can hear the yacht skimming the lake, its bright spotlight scanning the water ahead. Chatter and hollers rise up from the open cabin doors below, leaking out into the night.</p>
<p>A couple cigarette butts line the balcony railing, all different brands. Leftovers from Kenny and Henrietta’s jaunt. Kyle brushes them off the ledge and watches them fall down into the fire pit below, where some of their classmates lounge about, poking the fire and laughing over more drinks. The flames lick high, golden flicker illuminating Stan and Kyle’s faces as they lean out over the edge together. </p>
<p>“Think they heard us?” Kyle asks with a glint. </p>
<p>Stan squeezes him closer. “You were super loud.”</p>
<p>Kyle chuckles, looking over him. “I’ll try and keep my voice down next time.”</p>
<p><em> Next time. </em> Stan grins, face nearly on his, prelude of another kiss. “Don’t.”</p>
<p>Suddenly there’s a bright light sweeping up the lakeshore, and when it stops it’s aimed right at them. Then <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EN-Zyf1MGUs">music</a>—blasting out deafeningly loud from across the water.</p>
<p>“<em>Are you gonna take me home tonight? Ah, down beside that red firelight! Are you gonna let it all hang out? Fat bottomed girls—You make the rockin' world go 'round! </em>”</p>
<p>They look out, raising their hands over their eyes to make out what’s going on. Down in the yacht Kenny waves his phone high overhead, other arm locking Henrietta into his chest. The song blares from the boat’s speakers. Butters sits up on Cartman’s shoulder so he can reach the spotlight on the roof, and he grins deviously out from behind it as he holds the beam on them. </p>
<p>“Yeah Marsh! Grab that kosher ass!” Kenny cheers.</p>
<p>Kyle slides out from under Stan’s arm with a testy smirk. He sticks out his tongue as he squeezes down the back of his jeans to moon them, wagging his pale ass against the cold glass. Stan nearly falls against the railing in a surprised laughing fit.</p>
<p>“Oh sweet Jesus!” Butters exclaims. nearly losing his grip on the light.</p>
<p>Kenny whoops, and even Cartman glances over with interest.</p>
<p>Kyle cackles and straightens up, trying to yank his pants back up, but then Stan’s hands slide over his to stop him. So Kyle cups his face and pulls him back in, wraps his arms around Stan’s neck as they make out, and Stan kneads his bare ass.</p>
<p>“<em>Oh—I know!—you gonna take me home tonight! Please! Oh, down beside that red firelight! Are you gonna let it all hang out? Fat bottomed girls—You make the rockin' world go 'round, yeah. Fat bottomed girls—You make the rockin' world go 'round!</em>”</p>
<p>Butters giggles, dropping down off Cartman’s shoulder to hug him, kissing him openly.</p>
<p>“Fuck yeah!” Kenny shouts up at the cabin. “Bring that down here!”</p>
<p>Stan pulls back with a grin, caressing Kyle’s soft skin. He gets a grip on his pants to help tug them up again. “Well? Wanna join them?”</p>
<p>Kyle smiles and bounces on his feet to help. “Really? Down there with a bunch of guys who all want a piece?”</p>
<p>The jeans squeeze back in place and Stan gives him a pinch, right where his ass meets his thighs. “I’ll beat them all off you. You’re mine.”</p>
<p>Kyle chuckles. “Aren’t I lucky?”</p>
<p>So does Stan. “Pretty sure I’m the lucky one.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you everyone for supporting this story! Just posting it in the first place felt like such a gamble, not knowing how people would react. I wanted to write a "mixed-weight" love story that broke the usual convention of loving someone <em>despite</em> their size, and I hope I've done that justice. I'm so grateful for all the positive reception and encouragement!</p>
<p>To MissLashyLassy, you inspire me. To Moonlight_is_Magic, you reaffirm me. To Myn, you complete me &lt;3</p>
<p>And if you've made it this far and haven't done so already, why not leave me a kudos or a comment? I would really appreciate it :^)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Make It Wit Chu</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter has HELLA SEX in it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Remember when I said this was just gonna be a stupid oneshot? Well I'm currently 30,000 words into the sequel 😂</p>
<p>Until that's posted, please enjoy this extra long bonus chapter B^)</p>
<p>Gonna come back and add more art to this too.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>—</p>
</div><p><strong>Offensive tackle:</strong> an offensive position in football, their job is to block.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The second they come down from the loft all eyes are on them. Or at least, the eyes of everyone who isn’t plastered out of their mind, sucking face, or smoking dabs. Clyde howls and rings his fist overhead. Bebe cheers. Luckily Craig and Tweek are still defiling the bathroom, so no quips just yet. Kyle hides his red face behind his hand, grinning deviously, and Stan ushers them out the back to the docs in a hasty getaway. </p>
<p>They spend the rest of the night on the yacht skimming the lake, wrapped up together for warmth and enduring Cartman’s jeering. It’s worth it just to see him slip getting out of the boat and scramble on the edge of the doc, feet kicking in the water yelling “You guys! Help me up, assholes!” </p>
<p>Kyle’s mom isn’t too pleased when they show up at the house the next morning grimy and hungover. She settles for just pissed instead of full-blown explosive rage when Stan takes the fall and says he got too drunk and Kyle refused to let him drive. Really they’d stayed up laying in the bed of Stan’s truck, watching the sun rise over the mountains, in awe of the whole night. </p>
<p>“How stupid is it that our anniversary is gonna be on Valentine’s Day?” Kyle had asked.</p>
<p>“Wicked gay, dude,” said Stan. </p>
<p>Then he rolled over so they could make out again, which of course snowballed into dry fucking. Stan grinding down against him, pants around his knees, breathing heavily and groaning as they frotted like animals. Kyle clutching his ass for encouragement as Stan humped him uncontrollably, hard cock rubbing against Kyle’s and the underside of his belly. </p>
<p>Stan let out a low whine as he came, and Kyle lifted his head up to blink with astonishment, asking “Did you just spooge?”</p>
<p>Stan nodded vigorously, too winded for words. “Uhuh.”</p>
<p>Kyle rested back against the truck bed, panting too, amazed eyes staring up at the fading stars in the faint blue dawn. “<em>Damn.</em>”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The rest of the weekend follows a similar pattern. Hiding up in Stan’s room, listening to Pinkerton, but also Disintegration and American Idiot and Songs for the Deaf. An amalgam of music that’s half Stan and half Kyle. Sharon orders Chinese takeout so they lay around on Stan’s bed slurping down greasy noodles and burning CDs. One thing leads to another and then Stan’s fulfilled another fantasy—but it’s chow mein instead of pizza, and Queens of the Stone Age instead of Weezer. </p>
<p>“<a href="https://youtu.be/UC5XbyV4OFE?t=41"><em>Dead bull with the life from the low! I’ll be massive conquistador! Give me soul and show me the door! Metal heavy, soft at the core. Gimme toro, gimme some more. Gimme toro, gimme some more. Pressurize, neutralize! Deep fried, gimme some more!</em></a>”</p>
<p>Kyle throws his head back and forth as he bounces on Stan’s dick, a real workout. “Now <em> this </em> is music to fuck to.”</p>
<p>Stan pants hard and raises his brows. “You love this album more than me!”</p>
<p>Kyle makes one boisterous laugh, grinding his hips against Stan’s pelvis, wanting to feel his cock as deep as possible. He grins down at him. “Not likely.”</p>
<p>Stan sucks his lip into his mouth with a moan and squeezes Kyle’s ass in both hands, bucking up into him to help him out. Kyle’s skin looks like gold in the light of his yellow desk lamp, glistening with sweat. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.”</p>
<p>Kyle chuckles. “So I’ve been told.” He yanks Stan up into a kiss, tasting sesame oil and MSG. Stan reciprocates with enthusiasm, hands sliding up under Kyle’s shirt, making it ride up halfway to his chest. Kyle allows it, he’s too lost in the motion of the groaning bed. </p>
<p>“You’re wearing me out,” Stan admits with a spent grin, breath hot on Kyle’s face.</p>
<p>He still hasn’t come yet, so Kyle pushes him back down with a smirk, saying “Big boys, dude. Just fuck harder.” He uses Stan’s leg for leverage, lifting up off him to slam down again, putting his weight into it.</p>
<p>Stan’s head snaps back against his pillows and he cries out, feeling everything forced out of him. He locks his hands on Kyle’s hips, nails digging in as he comes.</p>
<p>Kyle nearly runs into Stan’s dad as he sneaks out into the hall. Luckily Randy only gives him a glazed grin and a dopey chuckle. “You kids are gonna blow the speakers playing music that loud!” He’s so high he doesn’t even register that Kyle’s not wearing pants.</p>
<p>Kyle ducks into the bathroom to get away, and cleans up. When he returns to Stan’s room he’s ready to crawl in bed and sleep—only to find Stan face down in his pillows, bare ass up in the air like a waiting invitation. He pants, flushed face looking shamefully over at Kyle as he fingers himself, lube running down the back of his leg. </p>
<p>Stan gulps. “Fuck me?”</p>
<p>Kyle’s fully hard again and gets his second wind in the time it takes to shut the door.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Sunday evening they kiss goodnight against Stan’s truck in Kyle’s driveway, then wave at each other like giddy weirdos as Kyle lets himself into the house. He presses his back to the door once it’s shut and it takes all his willpower to not scream. <em> Stan Marsh is my boyfriend! </em></p>
<p>And, of course, by Monday morning everyone knows.</p>
<p>Cartman and Butters help soften the blow, like a big airbag in a car crash. At least they aren’t the only mixed-weight fag duo. But when Stan walks into school with his backpack and gym bag he feels he finally understands Kyle’s dislike of stares. Suddenly everyone’s looking at him. Stan lifts his head and refuses to feel ashamed. He walks on to first period Phys Ed., eager to see him again.</p>
<p>For once Kyle’s not changing in the stalls. They play it cool, get dressed, say good morning. Sneak simpers at each other. </p>
<p>Behind them Craig says “Heard you shake the A frame Friday—so Marsh, how’s your ass?” and the locker room buzzes with snickers and whispered quips. </p>
<p>Stan grins and pulls off his shirt, revealing the line of hickeys from his chest down to his groin. “Could ask you the same thing.”</p>
<p>Most of the jeering is done in jest, and any genuinely heinous comments hurled at Stan just make him more dramatically resolute. He’s Stan Marsh, #5 pitcher for the Cows, voted ‘Best Smile’ in last yearbook’s superlatives—and he’s dating the second fattest kid in school. He’s <em> all over him. </em> </p>
<p>It’s so sweet it’s sickening. Scott Malkinson catches them making out behind the bathrooms during laps and has to give himself an insulin shot. It gets them to split up until third period at least.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey fat fuck. Where’s the fat fucker?” Cartman asks Kyle as he walks into Spanish.</p>
<p>Just as he has time to roll his eyes there’re arms hugging Kyle from behind and a kiss on his cheek. “Hey again,” Stan greets.</p>
<p>“Sweet Jesus!” Tweek says with buggy eyes. He’s still crashing from the weekend bender, and shaking in his seat. “They’re still at it!”</p>
<p>“Oh shit! PDA alert!” Clyde whoops from the desk ahead, which looks comically small for his muscular mass. “More than just a one night stand?”</p>
<p>“M-more like a one night <em> sit</em>, huh fellas?” Jimmy asks, open grin looking for laughs.</p>
<p>Token still looks mad. “More like one night of ruining my bed sheets!”</p>
<p>“They had help,” Kenny says from his desk, smirking out with his chin in hand.</p>
<p>Stan runs a hand over Kyle’s back to wrap around his shoulders. “It’s official.” Kyle folds his arms with pride and Tweek bangs his head on his desk. </p>
<p>“Officially gay!” Clyde shouts.</p>
<p>“Well Stan?” Cartman asks once they’re settled into their seats. “How bad’s the backlash for fucking our mascot?”</p>
<p>Kyle scoffs. “I’m not a cow,” he juts his fingers from his forehead like horns, smirking, “I’m a bull.”</p>
<p>Stan grins and flushes, which of course Kenny catches. He jabs Stan in the side with a smirk as their teacher enters. “Does that make you a toreador?” </p>
<p>Stan hides his face in his textbook. They don’t know the half of it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unfortunately, not everyone is so thrilled. </p>
<p>They leave the classroom and Kyle pulls Stan down by his shirt collar to give him a quick kiss goodbye, saying “See you at lunch.” </p>
<p>He turns to go, and Stan loiters there a moment looking after him. Watching his pants crease where his perfect ass becomes full thighs, rubbing together as he walks. Fuck he’s so lucky. Kyle has it all. Even his calves are cute and plump.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>Stan turns to go the other way and catches the eye of someone else. Wendy stands there across the hall with her locker open. Her face is impassive, staring back at him. She’s seen everything. </p>
<p>Stan blinks back. “Hey, uh—” He takes one step forward and she slams the door so hard Tweek yelps from all the way down the hall.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes Stan nearly a week just to get Wendy to talk to him, and he has to ditch baseball in order to corner her on the tennis courts to do it. She finishes up the set and goes to grab her water, and there he is on the other side of the chain link fence, calling across the court. </p>
<p>“Wendy—You can’t avoid me forever,” he says, fingers hooked on the links. </p>
<p>She grabs up her bag and slings the strap over one shoulder. When she heads for the exit he strides around to catch her at the gate.</p>
<p>“Can we please just talk?” He sounds almost vulnerable. “I hate this tension between us.”</p>
<p>She sighs, folding her arms. He’s not going to give this up. “You have until I get to the girl’s locker room.”</p>
<p>“This is about Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?” He asks, letting her pass. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t take you to the lake. I didn’t think it would mean this much to you.”</p>
<p>She walks on, looking straight ahead. “It’s not about the <em> party</em>, Stan. It’s about <em> expectations</em>.”</p>
<p>“What?” Oh no. Those things their old school counselor was always on about, and how dangerous they are to relationships. Stan keeps pace with her. “We’re <em> not </em>together.”</p>
<p>“No,” she agrees, “we’re not. It doesn’t change the fact that we were going to go together! We had a plan, and you stood me up.”</p>
<p>“I sent you a text,” he says, like that absolves him of all crimes.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah. Thank you for that by the way. For saving me the trouble of putting on all my makeup.” Wendy halts and turns to him, arms crossed. She wants to ask if he has any idea what it’s like to plan an evening a week out and get jilted day-of. If he’d just wanted to go alone that’d be fine, she could have still come, but that text—'<em>I have to ask someone else’</em>. As if she could show up stag while he was there with his <em> new </em> Valentine. “You didn’t even give me enough time to ask someone else,” she says. “Were you just too cowardly to tell me before?”</p>
<p>“No!” He groans into his hands. “I didn’t—I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do.” His expression shifts to nervous concern. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner—You’re not that miffed, are you?”</p>
<p>Not that miffed? After spending Valentine’s Day at home, hiding from her parents so she didn’t have to explain why she no longer had a date? Getting drunk Snapchats from Bebe of <em> his </em>night as it progressed? </p>
<p>‘OMG STAN CAME W KYLE!!’ typed over a crooked picture of them drinking in the kitchen. ‘HOLY FYCK THYERE DANCING TOGETHER 😂😂🤣’ with video proof. Next a shockingly candid shot of them swallowing each others’ tongues with Stan’s hands digging into Kyle’s ass. Only caption one big 😱. Wendy almost couldn’t bring herself to open the next image. When she did Bebe’s selfie popped up on screen, eyes huge and scandalized. ‘OHMYHGOD THYRE TOTOALY FUCKING!!!!!!!!!$$!!’</p>
<p>“Yes, Stan, I am kind of miffed!” Wendy proclaims. “I waited all week just to find out you’re taking <em> him!</em>”</p>
<p>The venom in the word surprises Stan. “Is that why you’re upset? Because it’s Kyle?” He asks. “Are you mad at him?”</p>
<p>Kyle. Of all the people it had to be him. The one person she never felt threatened by—so vexed with image problems and unlucky in love. Christ, she even used to feel sorry for him. </p>
<p>“I’m not—” She huffs. “I’m not <em> mad </em> at Kyle, I’m just kind of shocked, Stan!”</p>
<p>“What?” He’s taken aback. “We’ve always been close—and you knew I was bi! You never had a problem with it when we were dating.”</p>
<p>Stan’s devotion to their friendship was cute, and Kyle’s feelings were visible from space, but “I wasn’t worried about competition—” She spits. “I didn’t think you’d actually be attracted to him!”</p>
<p>Stan stares back at her, stunned. “...Because he’s fat.” </p>
<p>She says nothing. </p>
<p>He frowns. “It’s not wrong to like him.”</p>
<p>She hugs her elbows and looks pointedly away. “There’s nothing <em> wrong </em>with it! But—Come on.” She glances at his shadow. Even it looks lean and built. “You don’t exactly fit like puzzle pieces.”</p>
<p>Stan shakes his head. “You don’t know that.”</p>
<p>She looks back at him, then sighs and looks away. “I’m just—kind of embarrassed, Stan. You led me on.”</p>
<p>“I know. I’m sorry.” He glances at his feet, then back at her. “Are we still friends?”</p>
<p>“When did I ever say I wasn’t your friend anymore?” She sighs again, but this time it’s with resignation. “I’m gonna need some time to sort through all this. ...But I’ll figure out some way to be okay with it.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Saturday comes with a snowstorm, so Stan and Kyle play video games in the basement snuggled up under the same blanket. Kyle’s head leaned back on Stan’s shoulder, hair tickling his cheek. Stan’s wrapped around him from behind, and using Kyle’s tummy as a cushion for his controller. </p>
<p>“You feel so cold, dude,” Kyle says. Even through his shirt Stan’s hands are like ice.</p>
<p>Stan snuggles into him. “That’s ‘cause you’re so warm.”</p>
<p>“Steal some of my heat, man. I got plenty of it.”</p>
<p>Stan chuckles. “You’re like a radiator.”</p>
<p>Luckily they’re still only cuddling when Sheila pops in later to bring them hot drinks. “Aww, aren’t you boys cute,” she gushes.</p>
<p>Kyle’s quick to get up and grab the cocoa and Stan shivers, cold air rushing into the vacuum he leaves. Kyle’s careful not to spill as she hands them off. “Thanks Ma.” </p>
<p>“Bring those mugs up when you’re done,” she calls, climbing back up the stairs. “I’m off to bed. Don’t stay up too late, bubbe.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight!” He hollers back impatiently. </p>
<p>The door shuts and Kyle thrusts Stan’s cocoa in his hand as he drops back between his legs. Now he’s the one doing the hugging, and Stan quickly sets his mug aside so he can drape the blanket over them again.</p>
<p>“You heard what she said,” Kyle whispers sinisterly as he kisses him, thinking <em> thank god the house is finally ours. </em></p>
<p>Stan eagerly reciprocates, but he’s thinking of her comment when she came in. “Does your mom know we’re together?” He asks, breath hitching as Kyle moves to kiss his neck just under his jaw.</p>
<p>They resituate, Kyle pulls at his belt loops and Stan scoots into his lap. “No way, dude,” Kyle says, sliding a hand over to palm him through his jeans. “We’d never have peace.”</p>
<p>Stan chuckles, ducking his head against his. Kyle gets his pants open and Stan sucks in sharply as he grasps his cock. He constricts his arms around Kyle, fingers digging into his back as Kyle strokes him. “Fuck, dude—”</p>
<p>Kyle hums and sucks his fingers. Snakes them into the back of Stan’s pants to stroke against his hole, other hand pumping fast. Stan’s embrace tightens, making him chuckle. “I like your strong arms around me.”</p>
<p>Stan grins, squeezing the soft excess of his back. “I like you in them.” <em> Puzzle pieces</em>, he thinks.</p>
<p>Kyle smirks and crawls back, mouth going south down his chest as he strokes in a finger. He takes Stan in his mouth and licks down his shaft, trying to take him as deep as possible while the paused game music plays on loop. Stan’s hand clamps down on his hair and he opens his legs with a moan. </p>
<p>The sitting angle isn’t doing Kyle favors. He has to shimmy his ass up in the air to get his mouth low enough, and bending forward to the floor pinches his back.</p>
<p>“Fuck, ow.” Kyle pulls up with a hand on his lumbar spine. “This isn’t gonna work.”</p>
<p>Stan lifts his head from the cushion. “Want me to get up on the couch?”</p>
<p>Kyle grins, raising back up. “I’ve got a better idea.”</p>
<p>He climbs onto it and Stan watches curiously. Kyle fluffs pillows and stuffs them under the hallow of his back so he can lay upside down, head hanging over the edge, legs up over the back. He reaches out and grabs Stan by his hips, pulling him back in. Opens his mouth wide, tips his head back, and opens his throat. Stan glides in easily. </p>
<p>“O-oh fuck!” He groans, rolling his hips for some friction. Kyle holds him by the base of his cock and guides his thrusts, setting a pace. Stan grabs either side of his ribs for support, just under the arms. “How are you so good at this?”</p>
<p>Kyle pulls back, stroking Stan’s dick against his mouth. “I know how to eat.” </p>
<p>He flicks his tongue over the tip, tasting salty precum. Reaches around to grab Stan’s ass and forces him in until he feels wiry hair against his face.</p>
<p>Stan groans as he goes fully hard, precum drizzling down the back of Kyle’s throat. “Oh god,” he moans, doubling over and wrapping around him. </p>
<p>Stan presses his face into his stomach as he thrusts powerfully, fucking his throat. He clutches Kyle’s back rolls, arms as tight around as they’ll go, and he can’t even make his fingers touch. His groan is muffled in Kyle’s gut as he buries his face deeper.</p>
<p>Below him Kyle reaches around to play with Stan’s hole, still a little wet from before. It makes Stan’s legs weak. He forces himself in to the hilt and holds there, twitching in Kyle’s throat. “<em>Fuuck</em>,” he moans out, smothering his face against his balls. Kyle makes a choked gurgle and it pushes him close to orgasm. </p>
<p>Stan has to reciprocate. He pulls up Kyle’s shirt and kisses the soft underside of his belly. There’s a wet spot on the front of Kyle’s sweats where his cock strains the fabric, so Stan pushes back the elastic waistband to spring it free. He kisses his way up the shaft, servicing the tip before going down on him too. </p>
<p>Kyle’s throat vibrates as he struggles to moan, rolling his hips up into Stan’s mouth. It’s enough to send Stan right over the edge. He grips Kyle’s hips tight, fingers digging into the doughy flesh as he fucks Kyle’s throat full of cum. Forcing him to swallow.</p>
<p>Stan pulls out, slopping a thick rope of cum and spit across Kyle’s face as he holds against him. Kyle pants hard and grasps him again, milking him for everything he’s got. </p>
<p>“You’re still hard,” Kyle says between breaths. “Think you got another round in you?”</p>
<p>Stan shakes his head, nuzzling into his belly again. “Not for a while.”</p>
<p>Kyle grins, beating him against his lips. “I think you do.”</p>
<p>“<em>Jesus Christ.</em>” His legs are like jelly, and his grip is weak around Kyle’s cock. “You’re gonna kill me.”</p>
<p>Kyle’s finger strokes against the underside of Stan’s balls. He teases his entrance. “You mean you <em> don’t </em> wanna fuck me?”</p>
<p>“I fuck you… you fuck me…” Stan says between breaths. “Doesn’t matter to me… As long as you’re on top.”</p>
<p>Kyle sits back up, swinging his legs down heavily on the cushions. He slaps Stan’s firm ass. “Then get your pants off and get on the couch.”</p>
<p>Stan grins and does as told. He watches Kyle fish around in the cushions for the lube packet they lost in the crack a few nights prior. He tears it open with his teeth in one swift movement, making his hair spring around his face. Stan gulps, seeing him do it every time is starting to become Pavlovian. Maybe he does have another round in him after all. Kyle curses as lube gets all over his hands and quickly slicks himself to keep from dripping, and Stan’s stiff.</p>
<p>Kyle yanks Stan into his lap to frot against him, his belly settling over Stan’s groin and the inside of his thighs. Kyle hooks his fingers back in and Stan bites his lip, pressing back against his hand. </p>
<p>Stan’s already sweating, too hot for his layers. He crosses his arms to lift his shirt, hoping Kyle will follow his lead. He looks so good in that Dookie shirt, but he’d look so much better without it.</p>
<p>Kyle sticks out his tongue watching Stan strip. He rocks his hips against the underside of Stan’s ass, and his finger hits something in him that makes Stan tip his head back and moan. He clenches on Kyle’s hand, abs revealed as his muscles tense.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe how hot you are,” Kyle says, pressing the head of his cock against his fingers to push inside. “How are we dating?”</p>
<p>Stan pants heavily, trying to stay relaxed. “I ask myself the same thing every day.”</p>
<p>Kyle groans as he pushes in, making Stan gasp out. He buries fully into him, takes a minute to adjust, then thrusts. “God—Fuck—” Kyle lays over him, crushing him down into the couch and moaning as he picks up the pace. “<em>Stan—</em>” </p>
<p>Stan opens his legs wider, and Kyle pushes one up against his shoulder for deeper penetration. Every thrust forces more air out of Stan until he’s breathless. </p>
<p>They make out, and Stan clutches his back through the shirt to claw it up, but Kyle won’t raise his arms to take it off. Stan tucks his chin to break the kiss and gasps sharply, face and chest flushed red. His gaze is locked with Kyle’s, and he tugs on his shirt again. “I love you.”</p>
<p>Kyle raises his brows. “Dude…” He grins. “That’s gay.”</p>
<p>Stan laughs, kissing him again, attempt dropped. </p>
<p>Kyle rasps a groan and really starts laying into him. Stan knows his signs, he can tell Kyle’s close. He slides his hands down his back, into his sweats to dig his nails in Kyle’s ass. Encouraging him to come.</p>
<p>Kyle thrusts in powerfully, head ducked and bangs shaking in Stan’s face as it builds. “I love you too,” he breathes, making Stan smile. A moment later Kyle moans and holds inside him as he comes hard.</p>
<p>They wrap up together in peaceful silence, breathing deeply like they might just fall asleep. Kyle lays heavily on Stan, cuddled up against his chest. “Still cold?” He asks.</p>
<p>Stan chuckles weakly, eyes already shut. “No way.”</p>
<p>“We make a good team. Everything balances out.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he agrees, but he sounds contemplative. As Stan drifts off his mind replays what Kyle said before. <em> How are we dating? </em> “Hey—Does Wendy ever give you a hard time?”</p>
<p>Kyle takes a second to reply, and Stan wonders if he’s already konked out. “We don’t really talk, dude,” he mutters finally. “Debate has been kind of tense.” </p>
<p>“Let me know if things escalate?” </p>
<p>Kyle’s turn to chuckle. He reaches down to the floor and drags up the blanket, draping it over both of them so only their feet stick out. One line of defense in case they accidentally sleep in so late his mom comes down and finds Stan naked under him. </p>
<p>They shift to get comfortable. Stan wraps around his neck and pulls him in for a kiss just as Kyle says “Deal.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Tuesday at lunch when Kyle walks into debate club Wendy is already shuffling paper scraps of topics in her hat. She pulls one out and unfolds it. “Alright our first resolution will be...” She scrutinizes the poor handwriting. “‘Women should not be allowed to show their boobs in public’.” Her head whips up, squinting at the club members. “Okay, who submitted this? Eric?”</p>
<p>He’s settled comfortably in one of the desks, hands behind his head, watching everyone else rearrange the room. “What’s the matter, Wends? It fits the guidelines.”</p>
<p>“We are <em> not </em> having another debate about breasts.” She sticks her hand back in the hat. “I’m choosing a new one.”</p>
<p>“Oh I see!” He says, moving his hands to his hips. “Wendy Tyrantburger decides what we’re allowed to discuss.”</p>
<p>Butters stops pushing his desk to jump in. “I thought the hat system was so we stop fighting over resolutions.”</p>
<p>Kyle rolls his eyes as he drags one podium out in front of the whiteboard. This conflict will never end.</p>
<p>Cartman raises his voice again. “Is it a coincidence that every time one of <em> my </em> topics is picked Queen Free Speech vetoes it? This is blatant discrimination!” He tsks. “For shame, Wendy.”</p>
<p>“<em>I’m </em> club president,” she says firmly, “<em>I’ll </em> decide what we debate.”</p>
<p>Kyle stops pulling. “Hey—I’m president too.” Like he’s gonna take another week of her acting like he’s not there. “Let’s just do it and move on to the next resolution.”</p>
<p>“I’m on opposition,” says Nelly.</p>
<p>Seeing she’s outnumbered Wendy sighs and caves, but not before shooting Kyle a look of betrayal. “Fine, I’ll judge. Token, be my time moderator.”</p>
<p>Still not leading the debate together either. Kyle raises a hand. “Opposition.”</p>
<p>“Aff!” Cartman hollers, holding up his and Butters’ arms. </p>
<p>They all shift around. The two teams take the pedestals, Wendy and Token settle in behind the judge’s table, and the others take the desks in the back to watch. Kyle and Nelly collaborate quietly over what points they want to deliver while Cartman and Butters snicker conspiratorially. Token calls time and the affirmative team has the floor.</p>
<p>Cartman clears his throat to give their opening statement. “We believe that women should not be allowed to flash their tits in public because tits are disgusting. People who have them should be ashamed, and seek to cover them at all times. They are the mind control devices of otherwise haggish creatures, which they use to enslave the minds of weak, beta males—”</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” Kyle groans, having regrets. “No—We’re not debating this!”</p>
<p>“Excuse me, can I speak? Can you let me speak now?” He asks. Butters sniggers.</p>
<p>“Do we seriously have to listen to this?” Kyle turns to the judge’s table for support.</p>
<p>Wendy looks fed up but says nothing, so Token says “Affirmative has protected time.”</p>
<p>Cartman holds his head high and resumes. “Ahem. The opposition may claim this is a sexist position, but this could not be further from the truth.” He smirks pointedly at Kyle. “Men with tits are even more grotesque than women—”</p>
<p>Kyle scoffs. “Oh please, Cartman! You’ve got the biggest tits here!”</p>
<p>“Here we go,” Token laments.</p>
<p>“These are pectorals,” Cartman proclaims, puffing out his moobs. “Not that you’d know, since your boyfriend’s a sissy simp!”</p>
<p>Wendy flushes angrily and cuts in. “Both of you cut it out or take it outside!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I’ll continue,” Cartman says, grinning giddily that he’s touched a nerve. “Let’s take our club presidents for example. Wendy No-Tits-aburger over here would be allowed to bare her boobage, as she has the chest of a prepubescent boy—”</p>
<p>Wendy opens her mouth but Kyle beats her to it, yelling “That’s enough, Cartman!” </p>
<p>“—While Boobflovski would require constant coverage.” He’s still smirking at her. “You should give Kyle your bra, he needs it more than you.”</p>
<p>“Hallway! Now!” Wendy shouts. </p>
<p>Cartman cackles his way to the door while Kyle continues berating him, and she charges after them both. Butters follows too, peeking out from behind the door as they continue their schism. </p>
<p>Kyle’s got his finger in Cartman’s face, and shouting loud enough it draws the attention of passing students. “I’m gonna seriously fuck you up if you don’t shut your mouth!”</p>
<p>“God Kyle, you’re so hormonal! Don’t get your titties in a twist!”</p>
<p>Wendy stands beside them, arms crossed and looking mad as hell. “I’ll give you one chance to take back what you said before I ban you from the club!”</p>
<p>“Aww, the truth hurts, doesn’t it bitch? You can’t admit your mosquito bites make you look like a long haired man—” </p>
<p>“What is your problem!”</p>
<p>He raises a finger like he’s had an epiphany. “That must be why Stan kept you around so long! How does it feel knowing you turned our school pitcher into a catcher?”</p>
<p>Kyle’s seething. “Wendy did <em> not </em> turn Stan gay!”</p>
<p>“No, but obviously her bony ass didn’t satisfy when he dumped it for blubber butt!”</p>
<p>“That’s not true,” Wendy says, but her voice wavers.</p>
<p>He catches the insecurity like a shark smelling blood. "You’re flatter than the earth before Pythagoras. No wonder Stan left you, Kyle’s got bigger tits than you!”</p>
<p>Wendy gapes, stunned into silence. </p>
<p>Kyle’s red hot, screaming “I don’t have tits, Cartman!”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah?” He turns back to him with a smirk. “Then what are these?” And he gets two fingers under his fatty breast and flicks it up.</p>
<p>Kyle screams and swings a fist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s good, right?” Kenny asks at their lockers, like saying ‘I told you so!’</p>
<p>Stan shakes his head in his hand, like he can’t believe it. “It’s like the best sex I’ve ever had.”</p>
<p>“Hah!” He shuts his locker. “Better than Wendy’s strap-on?”</p>
<p>Stan looks up into the distance, thinking about the past few weeks they’d been together. One of the best parts of dating Kyle is the simplicity. It’s like before, but with an added layer of intimacy. They can hang out, watch basketball, but also make out and spoon. And more often than not, spooning leads to other things. He’s amazed by the frequency. Kyle’s shockingly virile. His libido is so strong sometimes Stan feels like he can’t keep up.</p>
<p>And what’s even more amazing is just how easily he’s agreed be the one taking it. Kyle could give him a passing glance and he’d gladly spread his legs. It doesn’t matter where they are or what they’re doing, Stan sees Kyle and all he wants is to get down on his knees and make him feel good. </p>
<p>“He did this thing last night,” Stan can’t believe he’s about to say this out loud, but he has to tell someone. “He like, sat on my face and sucked me off at the same time. The pressure was insane. I came so hard I thought I was gonna need my inhaler.”</p>
<p>“Yo, you fucked his fat rolls yet?” Kenny asks.</p>
<p>Stan whips his head around so fast he gets a twinge in his neck. “Dude, what?!”</p>
<p>“That’s totally what Cartman and Bee-Butts do. Fatass won’t let him defile his virgin hole so he fucks him right in the fat.”</p>
<p>Stan glances around for a trashcan. He might just hurl. “I so didn’t need to know that.”</p>
<p>“You know what me and Henrie do?” Kenny asks with a grin. “I get her on her back, right? And I’m fucking her so hard her tits are bouncing up in her face—I grab those udders and I smother her with ‘em.” He pantomimes it with his hands shaped like claws. “Ten seconds on, three seconds off. It’s like erotic asphyxiation. Then when she’s on top she does it to me. Death by tits, man.” He snickers. “You should try it with Kyle.”</p>
<p>Stan grunts with disgust. “Don’t call them that.” He frowns into his locker, pensive. “He still doesn’t want me to take off his shirt.”</p>
<p>Kenny raises his brows. “That’s a travesty.”</p>
<p>“I’m easing him into it. We got a date on Friday for our two week.” It’s amazing how fast it’s gone by. “Might try to gain more ground.”</p>
<p>“Hey, we should totally triple date!” says Kenny, leaning on his locker. “Butters can bring lardass, I’ll get Henrie to turn up. We’ll be totally coordinated, big bitches and their skinny boytoys.”</p>
<p>“Uh, something tells me Kyle won’t be down for that,” says Stan, shoving his antiperspirant aside to grab his math book.</p>
<p>“Aw come on! I need an excuse to ask her out again.”</p>
<p>“Say you’ll take her to a graveyard or something. Jesus, I doubt she’s hard to impress.”</p>
<p>“Hey! Check it out!” Suddenly some kid’s shouting from up the hall, hands cupped around his mouth. They both look over. “The fat kids are fighting!”</p>
<p>Stan scrunches his brows. </p>
<p>“The fuck is he on about?” Kenny asks.</p>
<p>“The fat kids are fighting you guys!” </p>
<p>He disappears back around the corner, and then Stan realizes. He and Kenny turn to each other, thinking the same thing. Stan slams his locker shut and they book it.</p>
<p>A sizable crowd of students have already formed a circle, shouting and watching, backing out of the way as Kyle and Cartman skirmish. Kyle’s screaming with wrath, hammerfisting him in the back as they lock up. Cartman swings arms like lead batons and yanks fistfuls of red hair. They drag each other around the hall, crashing into lockers as they wail on each other. </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>Stan and Kenny shove people out of the way to get into the circle. Stan makes it to the center and stands there stunned. Butters flits around the inside, looking panicked and helpless. He maneuvers out of the way of their brawl while Wendy tries and fails to shout them down. “Break it up! Jesus Christ—Break it up!”</p>
<p>Stan’s horrified. They’re two heavyweights, but Cartman is definitively taller, bigger, with the strength of an offensive tackle. Somehow Kyle’s holding his own, he’s beating down on him with total fury. He’s a fucking juggernaut. </p>
<p>“FUCK YOU!” He screams, smashing fists into Cartman’s ribs. “FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!”</p>
<p>Stan runs in. “Kyle! Stop!” He grabs him from behind to pull him off, and Kenny does the same with Cartman. </p>
<p>They’re so deep in the fray, screaming curses and trying to grapple the other. Fat arms crashing in faces, shoving back, then grabbing fabric and pulling in again. Kenny takes a wayward elbow to the gut and Butters jumps in, pulling Cartman back with all his minuscule strength. Wendy comes in on Stan’s left and hooks her arms around Kyle’s, and the four of them manage to pry them apart, Kyle kicking and screaming the whole while.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>“Fuck! You piece of shit Jew!” Cartman shouts, holding his bloody nose. Kenny and Butters hold him back to keep him from charging in again.</p>
<p>Stan stands between him and Kyle, wrapping around him like a protective wall as Kyle points and shouts. “I’M GONNA <strong>FUCK</strong> YOU UP! I’M GONNA <strong>FUCKING KILL YOU!</strong>” He’s got blood dribbled down his shirt, tugged halfway up his waist from their brawl. Wendy glances quickly between him and Cartman.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>“Let it go, dude, let him go!” Stan yells. Kenny’s shouting similar shit. </p>
<p>Kyle looks rabid. All he needs is foam at the mouth. He clutches around Stan’s middle possessively and death glares out across the hall. “You better not fucking touch me again you sick fuck!”</p>
<p>“Jesus Christ—What happened?!” Stan demands.</p>
<p>Butters is still clinging feebly to his boyfriend, barely restraining him. “Cartman bean dipped him!”</p>
<p>“He what?”</p>
<p>“Alright, what the hell is going on here! What’s this about students fighting!” Suddenly the crowd dissipates in a scatter as their vice principal comes charging through. Instantly his eyes fall on Cartman and Kyle, the only fat kids in sight. He looks pissed, but not surprised, and picks them out with his finger. “Both of you, in my office. Now.”</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Kyle spits, and wipes the blood from his lip. </p>
<p>Stan fixes his shirt for him as Kyle slides out of his arms, and watches as he goes.</p>
<p>“God—” Wendy breathes, looking after him too. She stands beside Stan, clutching one knee, other hand to her chest. “I’m lucky you came. Nothing I did worked.” </p>
<p>Stan shakes his head, breathing hard too. “Kyle’s a hothead. You can’t talk him down.” You have to get in there and get physical, in every context.</p>
<p>She looks from him back up the hall. “He cooled off pretty quick after you showed up…”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Stan agrees. “We balance out.”</p>
<p>“I guess you do.” She pinches her lips and looks at the tiled hallway floor. “I’m sorry.” Stan looks over with surprise. “About what I said. I was just—” She cuts herself off.</p>
<p>“What happened?” He asks.</p>
<p>She shakes her head. “Cartman, playing off our insecurities.” Almost drawing out those words she wanted to ask Stan before. <em> Was I too skinny for you? </em> Even thinking it feels hateful and slimy. “Kyle—I think he—” She works her lips together a moment. “I think he defended me.”</p>
<p>Stan’s eyebrows shoot up into his bangs, and he helps lead her back out of the hall. “You’re going to have to start from the beginning.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Kyle’s phone goes dark. He and Cartman are suspended from school the next day. And the day after that. By Friday Stan worries he’ll never come back. It gives him plenty of time to think though. About the fight. What Wendy told him. What he plans to do.</p>
<p>That afternoon Kyle sits at his desk in his room, finger stroking lazily across his mom’s laptop trackpad. The web browser is open to Stubhub, one of the only sites not blacklisted by parental controls. He scouts out good concert seats and prices, wishing he could just check Facebook for two seconds. Apologize to Stan for being grounded the day of their date.</p>
<p>There’s a knock at his door and Kyle exits the window. “Come in.”</p>
<p>It opens, but instead of his mom it’s Stan. “Kyle?”</p>
<p>Kyle lifts his chin from his hand. “Stan?” </p>
<p>“Hey dude.” He grins. Kyle looks so cozy in his pajama pants and Pinkerton shirt, squeezed snug into his roller chair. The bruise along his temple has gone from red to faded blue, slowly disappearing. Stan shuts the door and swings his backpack down. “How’s being suspended?”</p>
<p>Kyle pushes back from the desk to get up. “Dull as you’d imagine.” They meet in the middle and wrap around each other. “Better now that you’re here.” </p>
<p>Stan grins. They kiss a minute, and when he pulls back he says “I brought your homework for the week.”</p>
<p>Kyle groans. “Is that why my mom let you up?”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, I told her we have to work on a group project, so we have a couple hours.”</p>
<p>Kyle smirks, constricting him tighter. “You’re such a liar.”</p>
<p>Stan smiles guiltily. “I had to do something to see you. I’m just surprised it worked. The first thing she said when she opened the door was,” and he goes into a hyperbolic impression of Sheila, “‘Kyle’s still grounded, Stanley, so I’m afraid he can’t hang out tonight!’”</p>
<p>Kyle snickers and pulls away to show him to the desk. “I’m not. My mom freaking adores you, man. She thinks you’re a good influence on me, like you’re my buff friend who’s gonna get me to eat all my green vegetables.” He offers Stan his chair.</p>
<p>“Hah! She better not find out what we get up to,” he says, plopping down in it.</p>
<p>Kyle sighs. “Just pissed we can’t go out tonight.”</p>
<p>Stan gives him a consoling smile and takes his wrist to pull him in. Kyle clutches the armrests and leans over him. “We can always stay in,” says Stan, his nose brushing Kyle’s. “I’ll just tell her we’re way behind and we have to pull an all-nighter.” And he tilts his head to kiss him again.</p>
<p>Kyle pulls back with a grin. “Well if we’re going to be doing schoolwork let me go get another chair.”</p>
<p>Stan keeps the grip on his wrist. “You don’t need to.”</p>
<p>He glances down at Stan’s lap. “That sounds dangerous. My mom’s just downstairs.” But he turns around and sits back on him just the same. </p>
<p>Stan wraps around his middle, one hand rubbing over his belly, the other down the back of those pajama pants. “I can be quiet.”</p>
<p>“Hah! Doubtful.”</p>
<p>“I haven’t seen you in three days,” Stan whines, burying his face in Kyle’s neck. “I haven’t jacked off or anything.”</p>
<p>Kyle grins back at him. “I think we need <em> study music.</em>”</p>
<p>He unplugs his headphones from the computer and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9baR9sLYNmo">picks a playlist</a> as Stan’s hands roam his body. Sliding up under his shirt while his other hand tugs down Kyle’s waistband, exposing his wide hips and ass. Stan bites his lip. He’s already hard against him, and this seat is so comfortable. He might not want to get up.</p>
<p>
  <em> “I fall over and over and over, over, over on you. I get ill, I get ill, I get ill, you're the only one I'm into. You and me—Fit so tight."</em>
</p>
<p>Kyle opens a desk drawer and fishes around. He pulls out the lubricating gel he snagged at the drugstore when they ran out of packets. He pops it open and squeezes a glob into his hand, and behind him Stan groans and undoes his belt.</p>
<p>“You’re so desperate for me, dude,” Kyle says as he slides his hand up between his cheeks, fingering himself.</p>
<p>Stan watches with already haggard breath, stroking himself against Kyle’s ass. He gets a dollop of jelly too and slathers it on. “I missed you so much.”</p>
<p>Evidently Kyle missed him too. He grabs Stan by the shaft and pumps him up against the two fingers in his hole, and slides him in impatiently. Kyle hisses at the slight burn as he lowers himself on Stan’s cock, forcing him in fully. </p>
<p>“God—<em>Fuuck</em>,” Stan whines, wrapping around and grabbing his tummy. He thrusts up into him, breath hot against Kyle’s neck. “You feel so fucking <em> good</em>.”</p>
<p>Kyle pushes down on his desk for support as he lifts his ass and slams it down again, bouncing on his cock with a rhythmic slap of ass against denim. Stan bites his lip to muffle his moan and without thinking he slaps his ass so hard his hand stings. </p>
<p>Kyle gasps sharply and looks over his shoulder with a gape, panting hard. Stan’s about to apologize but then Kyle grins and says “Do that again.”</p>
<p>So Stan smiles and leans back against the chair. He winds up his hand and spanks him with gusto, watching the skin ripple from the force. He slaps his ass again, until it’s pink and hot, squeezed it in his palm. Stan buries his face in Kyle’s shoulder and moves to grip his hips, clawing into his flesh and holding firm to buck up into him. </p>
<p>Kyle keeps on the pace with his bouncing. “Are you close already?”</p>
<p>Stan nods against his back. He’s been pent up for days. “Don’t wanna finish yet,” he breathes.</p>
<p>Kyle grins and speeds up, throwing his weight into it and making the chair groan. Stan’s breath hitches every time, making him wrap around Kyle reflexively. </p>
<p>“We’re not stopping,” Kyle says. “Tonight’s the night I get you to come twice.”</p>
<p>“<em>Oh fuck,</em>” Stan moans, fingers digging into him as he seizes up. He bucks up into him as it builds and crushes Kyle down against him as he comes, burying into his ass as deep as he can.</p>
<p>They hold there a minute, and Kyle grinds against Stan to perpetuate the friction. He smirks as he says “Let’s see how long it takes.”</p>
<p>Stan hugs him tight from behind, and when his senses come back from black he hears the music is still playing.</p>
<p>
  <em> “You and me, fit so tight. All we need—Is one more time! Can you do it again? Do it again? Do it again? Can you do it again?” </em>
</p>
<p>Stan chuckles breathily and squeezes him. “Let’s move to the bed. My legs are falling asleep.”</p>
<p>Kyle pushes up on the desk to haul himself up. He grabs the lube and Stan’s arm, leading him over with a grin. “Want me to put your ass to sleep too?”</p>
<p>“I think I’ve got it this time,” Stan admits. </p>
<p>He tucks himself away so they can pull the bed a few inches from the wall. A tip Butters so graciously bestowed onto Kyle during another unwanted yakfest about all the <em> amazing </em> sex he and Eric get away with under his dad’s nose. </p>
<p>Stan pushes Kyle against the mattress and they make out on the thrown back covers. Kyle grabs his ass and holds their groins together while Stan kisses down his throat, fingers hooked in the pajama bottoms. He slides them off and grins down at Kyle, the only thing left is his shirt.</p>
<p>Kyle’s having similar thoughts. He smirks up at him as he says “Strip for me?”</p>
<p>Stan chuckles and kisses him briefly before sliding back to stand between his legs. Kyle props himself up on a hand and watches with a finger in his teeth as Stan turns to show his ass. He drags his pants down slowly, and Kyle cups one cheek to knead the muscle underneath. Stan bends forward to push his jeans past his knees, and Kyle gets him back for earlier with a stinging slap, right where ass becomes thighs.</p>
<p>Stan jolts, gasping faintly before smirking over his shoulder. He steps out of the pants and twists back around to lift his shirt. Kyle’s hands follow, tracing down the trail of hair from his naval to his groin. Kyle’s hand wraps back around his cock, still hard and wet, and pumps him slowly. </p>
<p>Stan holds his shirt up to his neck, showing off slight pecs, and Kyle says “Flex?”</p>
<p>Stan smiles and obliges. Kyle drags his tongue from the base of his cock up along the groove between his abdominals. Stan flings his shirt aside and pins Kyle against the bed, grinding into his hand and feeling his hardon against his leg. </p>
<p>They kiss desperately and Kyle whines. “You’re so hot, I needed you so bad.” He opens his legs wider to stroke Stan against the underside of his ass. “God, <em> please </em>just fuck me again.”</p>
<p>Stan kisses the corner of his mouth and pulls back, looking in his eyes. “I want to make love with you.” Kyle raises his brows with a gape, and Stan says “But you have to get naked.”</p>
<p>Kyle’s mouth clicks shut. He looks hesitant, almost fearful.</p>
<p>Stan caresses his shoulder through his shirt. “Wendy told me what the fight was about.” </p>
<p>Kyle swallows. “I want to.” He wraps around Stan tighter. He shuts his eyes. “Just please—don’t call them tits.”</p>
<p>Stan squeezes his soft upper arm and goes to kiss him again as <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hm6RQgGTZr0">the song changes</a>. “I would never do that.” </p>
<p>They make a hill of pillows on the bed for Kyle to lounge back upon. He looks regal, like the figure of a renaissance painting. Reclining Venus. Stan lays between his legs and kisses the pale skin of his calf, behind his knee, up the inside of his thigh. Kyle moans and pets Stan’s hair, tugging lovingly as he stop just below his groin. Stan sucks and nips the flesh, leaving behind a dark, wet spot, and Kyle hums another moan.</p>
<p>Stan strokes his weeping cock, giving it a passing brush of his lips before sitting up to grab the shirt. He pulls it up slowly, and Kyle shifts to keep it from snagging. More is revealed, the deep hollow of his belly button. Kyle runs a hand over Stan’s and they clasp together, fingers lacing as they kiss. Stan slides the shirt all the way up to Kyle’s chest, rumpling the album design beyond recognition. He pauses there, just rubbing his hand over Kyle’s stomach, down the side to squeeze his flank. Pressing his pelvis on Kyle’s in a slow grind. </p>
<p>Stan breaks the kiss to push Kyle’s hand over his head, saying “Raise your arms.”</p>
<p>Kyle grips his headboard and shuts his eyes as the shirt’s pulled up over his head. Before it clears he feels Stan embrace him again, and then there’s lips on his. Kyle chuckles and yanks it off his eyes to fling it to the floor. Then he cups Stan’s face, and they just kiss passionately. Completely nude.</p>
<p>“Isn’t this better when we’re both naked?” Stan asks with a smirk.</p>
<p>Kyle sniggers. “Guess so.” It does feel nice, Stan’s bare skin on his.</p>
<p>Stan slides back down, stroking him as he resumes the kissing train. One on his throat, one on his collar. Kyle bites his lip and re-grips the headboard as Stan’s hand glides up under his arm. Squeezing the fat excess and rubbing his thumb over his nipple. Kyle’s going to say something, but instead he makes a little moan. </p>
<p>Stan kisses his sternum, and before he can continue lower Kyle says. “You can pinch it.”</p>
<p>Stan raises his head with a surprised grin, thumb teasing around the areola. “You sure?”</p>
<p>Kyle makes a lascivious grin, so Stan cups his chest and rolls his nipple between his fingers. It looks so nice and pert under his thumb. Stan dares to dart the tip of his tongue over him, flicking and circling his nipple. Kyle rocks his hips up into Stan’s hand so he takes it in his teeth and tugs.</p>
<p>Kyle squeezes him between his thighs and lets go a moan, barely covered by the music.</p>
<p>
  <em> “I ain't here to break ya, just see how far it will bend. Again and again, again and again. I wanna make it… I wanna make it wit’ chu! Anytime, anywhere."</em>
</p>
<p>Stan pulls away to sink lower, hand slinking over his sides as he kisses down his stomach. He glances up to lock eyes with Kyle as he presses one over the stretch marks on the underside of his belly, running over his skin like white lightning. He pumps Kyle’s cock and licks the precum from the tip before taking him in his mouth, going down halfway. Kyle groans, rolling his head back and squeezing Stan’s between his thighs, knowing how he likes to feel constricted. </p>
<p>Stan sucks deeper and works his hips against Kyle’s mattress, his own cock stiff against the sheets and leaking. He reaches under Kyle to knead his ass, then slides his fingers up to stroke his entrance. He’s still wet from before, hot and slick with lube and cum. Stan slides in a finger easily and hooks up to rub his prostrate. </p>
<p>Kyle’s legs clamp shut around his neck as he cries out, a little too loud. “<em>Fuck!</em>” His chest heaves rapidly as he pants, eyes shut. “You have to fuck me right now, I’m edging dude—”</p>
<p>Stan doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls off his dick to sit between his legs, thrusting another finger in as he beats him off. “Where’d you put the lube?”</p>
<p>Kyle can hardly speak. He manages to pull it out from under their mass of pillows and Stan snaps it open, giving his cock a generous glob. He rubs himself up between Kyle’s cheeks, making everything nice and slippery again. They’re going to have a hell of a mess on their hands when this is over, but all Stan’s thinking is how fucking bad he needs to push inside Kyle this instant. </p>
<p>The tip of his cock finds his entrance and Stan glides in with a shudder. Kyle grits his teeth, hissing in with pleasure. He takes Stan by the neck, yanking him down as he presses back against his hips. They wrap up together, Stan rolling into him as they embrace. Skin is so much better on skin, it makes him groan out. Kyle has to shut him up with a tongue down his throat. </p>
<p>Stan wedges a hand between them, pumping Kyle back to the brink. He can feel him get closer by the way he squeezes him with his thighs. </p>
<p>“Fuck, I’m right there, dude,” Kyle gasps.</p>
<p>“I’m getting there,” Stan groans, stroking hard. </p>
<p>Kyle squeezes the back of his neck, locking eyes with his. “Come with me.”</p>
<p>Stan grins through his pants and picks up the pace, the idea pushing him to finish. He pauses pumping to starve Kyle off. </p>
<p>Kyle clenches his eyes shut and bites on a whine. He rocks himself in Stan’s hand. “Hurry, dude!”</p>
<p>Stan resumes jerking him as he pounds into him. “Almost.” He stops again, restarts, repeating and getting closer every time.</p>
<p>Kyle tenses up again, breath caught in his throat. He tries desperately to hold it off. Stan fucks into him with increasing force, building up onto the pre-orgasm plateau. He squeezes Kyle’s cock, stroking him furiously, and Kyle can’t hold back. He arches up into Stan, clawing his back as he comes against their stomachs. “<em>Stan!</em>”</p>
<p>He clenches around Stan as he orgasms, sending him over. Kyle slaps a hand over Stan’s mouth as he cries out, coming too. Stan groans into his hand, thrusting a few more times for good measure. He collapses on top of Kyle, completely wiped out, and cuddles into his chest. </p>
<p>Kyle constricts around him. “Fuck, that was almost in sync,” he breathes, massaging the back of Stan’s neck.</p>
<p>Stan chuckles, hugging him affectionately. “That can be the next thing we work up to.”</p>
<p>“Think you can do a round three?”</p>
<p>“I think three’s pushing it.” Stan yawns. “Maybe when I wake up.”</p>
<p>Kyle manages to grab the corner of his sheets and pulls them up over both of them. It instantly sticks to Stan’s sweat-soaked back. Kyle wraps around him again, feeling sleepy too. “I’ll pay you back for all the worshiping you just did.”</p>
<p>Stan grins, already falling under. “I seriously love you.”</p>
<p>Kyle’s right there with him. “I love you too, dude.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>In March when the baseball season starts the school orders the team new letterman jackets. By lunch the next day Tweek is already wrapped up in Craig’s, grinning with devious pride, and Butters looks jealous. Cartman’s never let anyone touch his jacket for football, the logic being ‘I paid for it, it’s mine!’ </p>
<p>When Stan joins them at the table he’s wearing his too—or rather, swimming in it.</p>
<p>Kyle raises his brows, seeing him approach. “Did they fuck up your order or something? That thing is way too big on you.”</p>
<p>“No fuck up,” he says, and pulls it off to drape over Kyle’s shoulders. Kyle goes red and pulls it around tight as Stan plops down beside him. The jacket fits him like a glove, proudly displaying ‘MARSH 05’ across the back.</p>
<p>“Shoulda got the next size up,” Cartman snips, mouth full of fries. “Your ass’ll outgrow it in a week.”</p>
<p>Kyle bites down into his sandwich. “I’m gonna pop that zit you call your head.”</p>
<p>“Have you lost weight?” Butters interjects. “Ya look kind of different lately!”</p>
<p>“Three pounds,” he declares with a hint of triumph. It doesn’t sound like much, but any progress is celebrated.</p>
<p>“Tenth of the way there,” adds Stan.</p>
<p>Cartman looks miffed, but Jimmy’s enthused. “Oh boy, c-congrats.”</p>
<p>“I’m not even doing anything different,” Kyle continues. “Still eating the same. Haven’t gotten serious about exercising yet. It’s an enigma.”</p>
<p>Kenny smirks over. “Sex burns calories.”</p>
<p>Kyle glances off with a self-conscious grin. Stan presses against him and chuckles like they’ve been caught red handed. </p>
<p>“Yeah well,” Kyle says, licking mustard off his thumb. “Just wait till Passover when I gain it all back. I can eat so much matzo brei.”</p>
<p>“Damn, that sounds really good,” says Stan. That fried bread thing Kyle’s mom sometimes makes for breakfast? He could eat a boatload. “You think I could come?” </p>
<p>Kyle grins. “Are you kidding? The one time a year my mom lets me drink?” He leans into him. “I’m gonna need someone to help me get through four glasses of wine.”</p>
<p>Stan’s got eager eyes and a sensual smile. He tilts his face down and drops his voice. “I’m not gonna be able to drive home after that.”</p>
<p>Kyle snickers, and Stan can feel his breath against his lips. “Stay the night and help me work it off.”</p>
<p>“Deal!” And Stan seals it with a kiss.</p>
<p>“Jesus Christ! Get a room!” Tweek sniggers as they make out.</p>
<p>“Yeah, you guys need another round in Token’s cabin?” says Craig. God, they’ll never live it down.</p>
<p>Kenny guffaws. “Like you two have room to talk!”</p>
<p>Kyle pulls back with a small chuckle, hand to Stan’s chest, forehead on his. Stan goes in to steal another kiss. </p>
<p>“When are we gonna get to do PDA like that?” Butters asks with a pout.</p>
<p>Cartman rolls his eyes and dunks more fries in his mayo. “Jesus, Butters, don’t be such a woman.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At the tail end of lunch they swing by their lockers to swap out books, and Stan slides an arm around Kyle to stop him before he goes.</p>
<p>“You know,” he whispers into his hair, caressing his ass, “I don’t really want to wait until Passover.”</p>
<p>Kyle presses him into the lockers. “I’m off work at five.”</p>
<p>“We got a home game tonight.” Stan squeezes with both hands. “After that the truck’s mine <em> all night</em>.”</p>
<p>Kyle smirks and twirls some dark hair on his finger. “I’ll be your fat cheerleader.”</p>
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